


Daughter of Earth

by giraffeisnotlonely



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Other, Out of Character, Romantic Soulmates, Soul Bond, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-09-24 08:09:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17097014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giraffeisnotlonely/pseuds/giraffeisnotlonely
Summary: Desperate to save the Prince of Mirkwood, Mithrandir calls for the help of his soulmate.Hermione's boredom leads her to the Forbidden Forest, where a strange portal opens. She finds herself in a world, not unlike her own, yet as different as it gets. Before she gets to enjoy it, Hermione is faced with a choice, and her compassion helps her decide to save one more life. The decision changes her life forever.





	1. The Wolf, the Witch, and the Confusion

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. Any references to books, movies, or TV shows belong to their respectful owners, I do not own any of them. Any similarities to other works are not intentional.

When it came to her marks, Hermione Jean Granger was scrupulous. At least until she had to leave everything behind to help her best friend, or more like brother, Harry Potter find and destroy dark subjects, called Horcruxes, that held parts of Lord Voldemort’s soul. Those few months in varying locations of Britain made her realise just how insignificant were the marks she received, how little all those points she had earned at school for Gryffindor actually meant in the long run. Sure, it was nice having a shining graduation diploma and a prestigious name of the Brightest Witch of the Age, but, in reality, what did it all matter?

Now, the war was over, and Hermione felt out of place. She had spent seven years of her life fighting evil. Ever since she was eleven, she had felt adrenaline coursing through her veins, and she had wished for it to stop. She wished for one normal year where the only thing she would need to care about was how well-written her Transfiguration essay was, or how quickly she could do the Maths in Arithmancy. She never got her wish then, but now the war was over. She was at Hogwarts, studying and worrying about nothing but precisely those things.

And, Morgana help her, she was _bored_.

There was nothing that she had left to immerse herself into. She had read the books in the library, she had discovered the secret passages, she had even spoken to numerous ghosts, even Moaning Myrtle. All out of boredom that seemed to follow her all around. 

Sure, she had Ginny and Luna, but the two, even if they were friends of Hermione, were not that close to her. They sat together during meals and lessons, but there was nothing that Hermione could speak to them about. Not to mention Luna’s imaginary creatures.

And that very morning, she had actually asked her to stop talking about one of those because her head was hurting enough on its own. That made Ginny snap at her and leave while dragging Luna with her. Hermione shot her an apologetic look and the girl smiled while shrugging, but let Ginny drag her out of the Great Hall.

So, there Hermione was, walking around the premises and trying to somehow diffuse her boredom to at least manageable levels. She had thought of going to the library but remembered there was nothing waiting for her anymore. The Room of Requirement was also out of question after the incident with Fiendfyre. Some of her year-mates had invited her to watch the Quidditch practice, but she had declined it after remembering that Ginny was still on the team and that _accidental_ fly-in with Zacharias Smith years ago. No, she would be fine, would she not? She could go to… 

Well, there was the Forest.

The Forbidden Forest was arguably the only place that Hermione did not know _that_ well. Besides maybe the common rooms of the different Houses, but even that was questionable. She had a lot of time when she had nothing to worry about.

‘The Forest it is,’ she muttered to herself. ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’ she asked herself and stopped in her tracks.

Well…

‘No, Hermione, don’t think about it, just go. Live a little, wasn’t that what Fred used to tell you all the time?’

At that, her heart clenched. The pain of his loss was still very fresh, even though it had been almost a year since that blasted wall fell on him. She had mourned his death for long months, together with George, much to the surprise of the Weasleys who had only saw Hermione nag the duo and yell at them for intruding her. The truth of their friendship was much more complicated. The three of them had a love-hate relationship, a sibling relationship where they both despised and loved each other at the same time. They would annoy one another but, if anyone was to hurt one, the other two would not show mercy. That’s how the Death Eater who shot the spell died from Hermione’s hand.

Hermione forced herself to calm down and continue walking. She made her face into a neutral expression and walked outside. The smell of awakening nature hit her nose, and she smiled against her own will. The trees were beginning to bloom, the grass was green again, and the birds were singing. She sighed happily and continued walking. She passed Hagrid’s hut and sighed inwardly seeing he was not outside to see her. She did not wish to answer his questions, and there were so many Rock Cakes one could eat.

Upon crossing the border of the forest, Hermione immediately felt the change of atmosphere. The thick canopy of the trees did not allow much light to hit the ground making the forest dark. The birds were barely audible from above, Hermione guessed because of the height of the trees. But the airiness and the freshness were still there. The smell of coming spring was clear in the air, no matter the odd tales and scary stories from other students who had said the air smelt foul.

‘Maybe they should watch their steps and stop before stepping into something,’ Hermione smirked to herself.

She walked further into the forest without much dwelling and found herself enjoying the new sights and new experience. She could sense the magic dwelling in the forest. The trees were old, and their magic was ancient. Hermione touched the bark of the tree closest to her and gasped. She felt joy radiating off the tree.

Hermione pulled her hand away and stepped back with a frown, but then touched another tree to feel the same. She was about to walk further when she sensed something behind her.

Hermione let her wand slide into her hand from the holster on her forearm. She did not like not being able to see her hind, so she swiftly turned around with her wand raised, her stance readied for a potential fight.

However, what she saw surprised her beyond belief.

A white wolf.

An actual wolf, and he had a raven perched on his back.

They were both looking at Hermione. Studying her.

‘Rubbish,’ Hermione scolded herself. ‘There are no Arctic wolves in Britain. And why would one be studying you, Hermione? Absolute rubbish.’

Suddenly, the wolf started moving towards her, but somehow Hermione knew he wasn’t about to attack her. The animal’s eyes never left her own, which surprised Hermione. How could a wild animal act like this?

Unless it wasn’t a wild animal. Unless it was a wizard in an animal form.

‘Are you an Animagus?’ she asked but the wolf made no indication of understanding, or hearing, her. However, she did not need it. She could now smell the predator.

It was a real wolf.

He stopped short before reaching her and looked behind her. Hermione followed his gaze to see shining coming from, well, nowhere. At least, it seemed so for a while, because the shining slowly became dimmer, allowing itself to stretch and become some kind of a portal.

Its edges slowly stretched between two trees and, upon reaching them, stopped. Through it, Hermione saw a view worthy of a post-card.

It was a valley in the mountains. But instead of some natural wonder, it held inside a city, as Hermione could see many roof-tops. Amongst the white buildings, trees were growing, however, instead of coming spring, they were showing autumn as the leaves were golden and red. Hermione could also see, or rather hear, she was surprised to realise, a waterfall. It had a magical sound to it, almost like a calming lullaby.

Hermione was startled out of her thoughts by the wolf she had forgotten was there. He grasped the sleeve of her long coat gently and tugged her towards the portal.

‘You want me to go there?’ she asked with an unimpressed look. ‘What for?’

The wolf, of course, did not answer but rather tugged her more insistently. Hermione tried to pry her arm away from him, but he did not let go.

‘I don’t want to go anywhere,’ Hermione stated sharply. ‘In fact, I am going back to school. Now, let me go, or I will hex you.’

At this point, Hermione knew the wolf understood her, even if he did not want to – or could not – answer. He finally let go, and Hermione turned around only to face a dozen or so centaurs with their arrows pointed at her.

‘Bloody hell,’ she muttered and unconsciously took a step back only to have her back hit a tree.

‘You are wandering our domain, human,’ one the centaurs stated harshly.

‘I am sorry,’ Hermione said. ‘I did not mean to offend you or enter your lands.’

‘Yet you have. We have promised not to protect the younglings of men, but you are not one,’ the centaur stepped closer to her, but stopped in his tracks suddenly. There was great surprise on his face. His, and the rest of the herd’s.

Hermione realised that, again, it was not her he was looking at, but rather the portal. Or, more importantly, whoever had just walked through it. Hermione suddenly understood why the centaurs were surprised. She was, too.

An angel, Hermione’s first thought hit her, and she scoffed inwardly. How thick could she be?

In front of the portal stood a man. A very beautiful man. He was tall and lean, and his hair was long and golden. He looked young, but his eyes held wisdom of the old. Hermione noticed he was also glowing. But the most curious detail about him were his ears. They were pointed, much like the faery folk in children’s books.

He looked at her and smiled softly before stepping beside her and saying something in a foreign tongue. Hermione, for the life of her, could not decipher, what language it was. The centaurs, however, seemed to understand it. They bowed their heads and turned around before leaving the place.

The man turned to face her and spoke up again, but Hermione sighed shrugging. She could not understand him. He tried another language, but Hermione shook her head, which seemed to trouble him. Suddenly, the wolf nudged her wand hand and Hermione could have smacked herself.

She waved her wand on herself and then looked up at the man in front of him.

‘Hello,’ she tried and received a smile.

‘Well met, My Lady,’ he answered. ‘My name is Glorfindel.’

‘I am Hermione Granger,’ she introduced herself. ‘Who are you? Why did the centaurs leave? What is that portal and where does it lead? Why is there an Arctic wolf in Scotland and why does he want me to go through? Why-‘ Hermione stopped her questions when she saw Glorfindel’s eyes shine with mirth. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just confused.’

‘It is understandable, Lady Hermione,’ he nodded. ‘And all of your questions will be answered. However, it is not me you ought to ask. I am here to escort you. The portal leads to Rivendell, one of the Elven realms in Middle-Earth. Lord Elrond dwells there, ruling with wisdom.’

‘But I can’t just leave! There are lessons I need to attend, and people will ask questions. They won’t know where I am and worry! There are Death Eaters out there. They will think me dead!’ Hermione frowned.

‘You need not worry, Lady Hermione. Nobody will notice your disappearance. You will come back, once the time comes, to this very moment. Nobody will know you have been gone.’

‘When can I be back? Why do I have to go?’ she asked still doubtful.

‘You do not have to,’ Glorfindel smiled mischievously and stepped to stand beside the door to Rivendell, ‘but you wish to do it.’

Hermione sighed heavily.

‘Oh, what the hell? It’s not like I have anything else to do,’ she nodded and walked to the portal.

Glorfindel gave her his hand to take, and Hermione took it before they stepped through.

The portal closed, and silence overcame the forest. Every trace of the shinning door, the wolf, the witch, and the elf were gone from existence.


	2. Tough Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. Any references to books, movies, or TV shows belong to their respectful owners, I do not own any of them. Any similarities to other works are not intentional.

As Hermione stepped out through the portal, she was glad Glorfindel was holding her hand because for some reason the portal was about a foot off the ground.  
‘Bloody hell,’ she mumbled as he steadied her with a slight smirk. ‘Oh, ha, ha,’ Hermione rolled her eyes. ‘It’s not my fault that whoever opened this portal forgot that I don’t have wings,’ she narrowed her eyes at Glorfindel, but her smile betrayed her amusement. ‘Neither do you. Do you?’  
‘No, I do not have the ability to fly,’ Glorfindel laughed. ‘What I do possess is balance and grace, as do all elves,’ he explained.  
Elves. Hermione had forgotten that part of the sentence in the midst of her worry about her absence. Elves existed in this… realm. Elves unlike the ones they had in the Wizarding World. Elves that were human-like and absolutely beautiful. Or, at least Glorfindel was.  
‘Are all of you so… beautiful?’ Hermione asked not finding a better word to describe his appearance. However, Glorfindel’s smile made her blush. ‘What?’  
‘We do all look young and most of us have no visible blemishes,’ he ignored her question and started leading her through corridors of the city. ‘Elves are immortal, Lady Hermione. We stop aging physically after we reach a hundred years of age.’  
Hermione smiled in fascination. She had missed this feeling of just absorbing new things. Learning. This new culture, new world would be interesting. At least for a bit.  
‘However, to answer your question,’ he continued, ‘one must ask what beauty is. What I find beautiful might not be the case for yourself, and the other way around.’  
‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,’ Hermione cited and smiled at Glorfindel. ‘It’s a saying we have back home.’  
‘Indeed, a very wise saying,’ he nodded. ‘Ah, we have arrived, My Lady. You will find Lord Elrond of Rivendell and Mithrandir, the wizard who wanders, in the library,’ Glorfindel opened the door for her.  
Hermione made to walk in but turned around to face him again.  
‘Would it be too much to ask to call me Hermione?’ she asked, and Glorfindel smiled again.  
‘Not at all, Hermione.’  
She smiled brightly and waved before heading inside the room.  
She stopped breathing for a second. The library was huge, and all the shelves were filled with books and old scripts that just begged to be read. Hermione’s hands itched to touch the leather-bound tomes, but after a second, she reminded herself that there was somebody waiting for her further down the way.  
Hermione walked further and, at the very end of the large passage, saw two men sitting at a table. As she approached, they both stood up, and Hermione was able to see them properly.  
First one, to her left, was a tall old man. He had a long grey beard and wore grey clothes. On the table near him was a pointed hat and a staff, which made Hermione realise he was the wizard, Mithrandir, Glorfindel had mentioned. He bore a certain resemblance to her late Headmaster, but not great enough to be mistaken for him. He certainly looked a lot sterner, not at all laid-back as Dumbledore had been.  
The previous thought led to the conclusion that the man to Hermione’s right was Lord Elrond, the ruler of Rivendell. Her deduction was confirmed by the overall appearance of the man, no, elf, for he had the same pointed ears. His hair was very dark brown, almost black, and long. He bore a circlet on his head, very crown-like, indeed. His clothes were long and looked very, well, regal. The elf’s face was neither old nor young and very calm; he showed no emotion. Hermione found herself missing the easy smiles of Glorfindel. At least she thought they were easy.  
Hermione stopped in front of the two males. She composed herself and smiled lightly.  
‘Welcome to Rivendell, My Lady,’ the elf greeted her in a pleasant and comforting voice.  
‘Thank you, Lord Elrond,’ Hermione bowed her head at him, but looked up as he lifted her chin up.  
‘You need not bow to me, or anyone,’ he told her. ‘Tell me, what is your name?’  
‘Hermione Granger,’ she answered automatically.  
‘Please be seated, Lady Hermione,’ Lord Elrond gestured at the unoccupied chair. ‘This is Gandalf the Grey, but amongst elves he is known as Mithrandir.’  
‘Pleasure to meet you,’ Hermione nodded at him.  
‘Indeed, Lady Hermione.’  
‘I am no lady, please call me Hermione, or Miss Granger, if you so wish,’ Hermione asked them.  
‘Very well,’ Lord Elrond agreed. ‘Now, I imagine you have a lot of questions, child. They will be answered in time. For now, we would like to tell you how you got here.’  
Hermione nodded for him to continue.  
‘Elves, Miss Granger, only love once in their life. They find their mate, one whom they love, and then they spend the rest of the eternity with them. However, sometimes, very rarely, an elf can find his perfect match, a soulmate, and form a bond with them. One so strong none can break it,’ Lord Elrond explained.  
‘Soul magic, yes, I know about it. I have read everything there is regarding it. Sadly, not for my own pleasure. But soul bonds and soulmates are mentioned,’ Hermione nodded her head. ‘It is very powerful magic, and very ancient. As old as love itself.’  
Mithrandir looked at her with surprise, as did Lord Elrond.  
Upon seeing this, Hermione sighed.  
‘I guess I forgot to mention that I am a witch,’ she said. ‘I can do magic,’ she pulled out her wand. ‘The place where Glorfindel found me was a forest near the school, and he saved me from a herd of centaurs. The non-magic folk do not know about the existence of magic in my world. We keep it secret.’  
‘Well, I must say that I did not expect that,’ Mithrandir chuckled. ‘Never mind, it makes our task easier.’  
‘Yes, indeed. Well, as you know, then, the magic of a soul bond is very powerful, powerful enough, indeed, to help sustain the bond mate’s life, to heal them. Which is why you are here. Mithrandir summoned you here. Not you specifically, of course, rather, the soulmate of someone who is hurt. It was a risk and you might not have even existed, but we took that chance,’ Lord Elrond suddenly sounded quite tired, and Hermione frowned. ‘Although, I did not expect it to be a daughter of man, nor a witch.’  
‘He is an elf,’ Hermione tilted her head. ‘But I thought elves are immortal.’  
‘We are, my dear child, but even we can die if we are fatally wounded. And your soulmate is fading into darkness,’ the elf spoke gravely. ‘He was injured by orcs. There were too many to win against, and he got shot by an arrow. I healed him as best as I could, however, there is a limit.’  
Hermione frowned. She was kind and caring, always has been, and she knew that she ought to help the poor soul. Be it her soulmate or not. However, there was something they were not telling her, yet. Something they feared would make her decline their asking for help.  
‘What is the catch?’ she asked bluntly. ‘You would have taken me to him already if it was that simple. There is something you are hiding. I do not like to be played, so do tell me.’  
The two males looked at each other, and Lord Elrond was left to tell her the truth.  
‘I trust Glorfindel has told you that you can go back to your home whenever you wish,’ he said and, upon her confirmation, continued. ‘It was the truth, you can go back. However, once you meet your soulmate, you will not want to do it. You will not wish to leave him. It would hurt you, and him, too. If you do this, Miss Granger, you will lose the ability to go back. To visit, perhaps, but nothing more. The separation from a soulmate is not healthy. For either one.’  
Hermione nodded and looked down deep in thought.  
He was her perfect match, the one who would make her happy. He was her key to happiness, to life itself. Hermione had read about soulmates. Two people who were not necessarily alike, not necessarily always agreed, but who balanced each other out perfectly. Two people who would always be there for each other through hot and cold.  
However, she would not be able to go back. She would have to stay here, to lose the possibility of seeing her family anytime she wanted. If ever. And who knows, what happens when she decided to stay. Wouldn’t her friends and the teachers look for her? Wouldn’t they worry?  
And then there was the immortality question. To that she had no answer.  
‘What of my life?’ she asked silently without looking up. ‘I am a witch, and my lifespan is longer than that of non-magical folk, but even I cannot live forever. Separation hurts, what about death?’  
‘As long as he lives, you live, Miss Granger,’ Lord Elrond spoke silently, and she looked up with a frown. ‘What I mean to say is that just like him, you would die of sorrow upon the event of his death. But if he does not, you will live together for eternity. You would, for the lack of a better explanation, become elf-like. But that is only if you meet. You still have the right to decline and go back to your world.’  
‘But he dies,’ Hermione frowned. ‘How much time do I have to decide?’  
‘A day, or perhaps two,’ Lord Elrond said kindly. ‘I truly did not wish to lay this upon your shoulders, Miss Granger. It is a difficult decision to make, especially when the stakes are so high.’  
‘May I… Is there a place where I could be alone for a bit?’ she asked silently.  
‘Of course. I will have my daughter show you to a room. It has a door to the garden and you can stay there for as long as you wish.’  
‘Not too long,’ Hermione’s lips twitched into a smile. ‘Thank you, Lord Elrond.’  
‘It is you I thank, Miss Granger.’  
‘I haven’t done anything.’  
‘You have given us hope, if very small,’ he smiled and stood up before walking to the door.  
A few minutes later, an elven woman came in and smiled at Hermione.  
‘My name is Arwen. Will you come with me?’  
Hermione offered a small smile and nodded standing up and following the dark-haired beauty. They walked through many corridors and many doors until they reached a place which Hermione could only describe as idyllic. Arwen opened the door and let Hermione enter. She was shown the bedroom and a bathroom, too. On the bed lay a dark green dress that Hermione assumed she was expected to wear.  
‘There are other clothes in the closet behind you,’ Arwen supplied seeing Hermione eyeing the dress. ‘If this dress is not to your liking.’  
‘Oh, no,’ Hermione shook her head, ‘it is beautiful. I just haven’t worn any dresses for over a year.’  
Hermione unconsciously touched her left forearm.  
‘Long sleeves, perhaps?’ Arwen offered kindly seeing Hermione’s gesture. ‘What colour would you like?’  
‘Blue, if that is not too much,’ Hermione sighed.  
‘Of course not, Lady Hermione.’  
‘Just Hermione,’ she sat down hesitantly on the bed and gazed through the window.  
Her decision was yet to be made. She had not made any more progress than she had back in the library. To leave would be killing her soulmate. To stay would be sacrificing her life in her own world for a new, unknown one. However, as much as Hermione wished for more adventures, more adrenaline, she could not for the life of her simply leave everyone and everything behind. She had a family. The Weasleys were her brothers, sisters, and, to some extent, parents. Her own were still in Australia, and Hermione, as much as she wanted to go and reverse it, knew that she had lost her parents. They would love her and forgive her, but they would never trust her again. Besides, they were happy. She had travelled to Australia in honest hopes to take everything back, but when she saw how happy they were, happy without her, she just couldn’t make herself do it.  
Then there was the question of freedom. Hermione was an independent woman. She wanted to do her own thing, make her own decisions, and live life the way she wanted, without being bossed around. That was one of the main reasons she would never have dated Ron. He simply expected too much from her. He wanted her to be like his mother. While Hermione loved Molly, her ways of living did not appeal to Hermione at all. But in this world, where Hermione saw Middle Ages of the Earth, would she be able to be free? Would she be able to be independent? She didn’t expect her soulmate to deny her that right, he wouldn’t want to hurt her, after all. However, just the thought of it made her worry.  
Finally, there was Harry. He was her brother; how could she leave him behind? Sure enough, he had the Weasleys and he had Ginny, but who said that would last forever? She was his only family apart from them. Well, maybe she was being too drastic. He still had his other friends, who surely would not leave him. There was Neville and there was Luna, there were Dean, Seamus, Oliver, Angelina, Katie, and Alicia. And George would never leave him alone. He would take care of him for her.  
George, she had forgotten her other brother. How would he react to losing her? He had lost his twin, his other half. Now he would lose a sister, too.  
‘Oh, Morgana, this is all so messed up!’ Hermione groaned.  
‘What is?’ Arwen asked upon hearing her, and Hermione jumped. ‘I apologise, I did not mean to startle you.’  
‘It’s alright, I was deep in thought. I was thinking about the decision I must make. It is difficult to decide when so much is at stake,’ Hermione sighed.  
‘Would you like to tell me?’ Arwen asked her. ‘Perhaps talking about it to someone rather than debating it in your head would help you.’  
Hermione gave it a thought and then nodded slowly.  
‘If that is not too much to ask, Lady Arwen.’  
‘It certainly is not,’ Arwen smiled. ‘And call me Arwen.’  
The two of them sat down on the bed, and Hermione told her everything on her thoughts. The decision did not magically make itself clear, but her heart certainly felt lighter. Hermione thanked Arwen for being her shoulder to cry on.  
‘You are welcome, Hermione,’ the elf nodded. ‘I have a suggestion for you. I think you ought to take a bath and then go to sleep. Your head will be clearer that way and perhaps sleeping will make it easier for you to decide.’  
Hermione could not find a fault in Arwen’s plan and agreed. 

Come morning Hermione found a tray with breakfast by her bed. The door to the garden was open, and Arwen had told her, that if she needed anything, she ought to call a maid.  
Hermione washed her face and changed into a midnight blue dress with long sleeves that covered her scar. She carried her tray to the garden and sat down by a tree.  
She was surprised to see that her head was indeed a lot clearer than it had been the day prior. She had practically decided, what to do. She wanted to save her soulmate, or at least try, if it was not too late. Lord Elrond said she would be able to go back to visit, so it was not that big of a problem. She would have lived alone at some point. Not seeing everyone all the time was part of the adult life. And Hermione was an adult. She was nineteen, an infant, in the elves’ eyes, but a legal adult in both Wizarding and Muggle World.  
Her independence would have to stay, or at least learn to compromise. She was sure her soulmate would not endanger her happiness simply because of the medieval traditions of the place. Would he? No, she had to believe he would not. Everything would be alright. And if she had to let him win from time to time, then so be it. She would learn to choose her battles to win the war.  
And with that Hermione smiled. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The song of birds filled her ears, and she felt the wind caress her face softly.  
Yes, she could definitely be happy here. 

As Hermione was being led back to Lord Elrond’s library, she couldn’t help but feel nervous.  
What if she couldn’t help him? She had made her piece with staying. What if she couldn’t? And what if he woke up, saw her, and decided that she was too plain for him? She had, after all, seen plenty of elves here, enough to know how beautiful they were.  
‘Hermione, calm down,’ Arwen put her hand on the girl’s shoulder.  
‘I’m scared, Arwen.’  
‘I know you are frightened, Hermione. I know I would be as well, but do not let it scare you away.’  
Hermione nodded breathing heavily. Then it hit her.  
‘What is his name?’  
Arwen smiled brilliantly.  
‘Legolas.’  
‘What does he look like?’ Hermione asked, feeling scared again.  
‘He’s very handsome.’  
Hermione bit her lip at that. On one hand, she was glad. Who wouldn’t be? But on the other… She was plain, not a beauty. Her height was very average, so was her body. Her face was nothing special. And talk about her hair…  
Hermione wasn’t one to worry about looks but she suddenly found herself regretting it. She should have listened to Lavender and Parvati when they told her that she needed to take care of that hair of hers. She also should have listened to them when they wanted to teach her about fashion…  
Hermione wanted to smack herself. She was about to save his life, and what she was worrying about were her looks. Ridiculous.  
‘Are you alright again?’ Arwen teased her new friend slightly.  
‘Yeah, I think so. It’s just stress,’ she breathed in and out a few times before nodding at Arwen to open the door to the library.  
The two of them headed to the same table, but this time it was Glorfindel who sat beside Lord Elrond, and not Mithrandir.  
‘Miss Granger,’ Lord Elrond and Glorfindel both stood up. ‘Arwen has informed me you had made your decision.’  
Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself and nodded.  
‘I am going to help him. And stay here, if that is what I want and need,’ she said, her voice unwavering. ‘I have thought about it long and hard, and that is my decision.’  
Lord Elrond smiled at her, and relief flickered across his face. Glorfindel also could not contain his joy and gave Hermione a brilliant smile. She smiled back shyly at them.  
‘Very well, Miss Granger,’ Lord Elrond stepped away from the desk. ‘If you are ready, we shall take you to your soulmate.’  
‘I’m ready,’ she nodded and received a nod from the elder elf.  
He gestured for her to follow him and headed to the door. Hermione was relieved to see that Arwen and Glorindel also walked after them. She felt calmer with two familiar souls there.  
‘Before you enter, Miss Granger, I must warn you. You must not let grief consume you. You will feel very strongly about his pain, but do not let it hinder you. Focus on the magic that binds you together. Find that thread and follow it. You will find him there, too. Pull him back. Do not let pain consume you,’ Lord Elrond told her.  
‘I won’t. I will try my best,’ Hermione nodded.  
‘May the Valar help you,’ Arwen smiled at her.  
‘Good luck,’ Glorfindel placed his hand on her shoulder.  
Hermione opened the door to the room and entered.


	3. Into the Rabbit's Hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. Any references to books, movies, or TV shows belong to their respectful owners, I do not own any of them. Any similarities to other works are not intentional.

The room Hermione entered was not unlike her own. It was light and airy, the golden light comforting. There was a door leading outside, and Hermione saw a silver-clad figure standing there. It was a man, who, upon her entrance, turned his head to look at her.  
Seeing she was not an elf but rather a woman, he walked in. Hermione was ready to argue her way in, but he seemed genuinely glad to see her. With a soft smile and a bow of his head, he left the room, and Hermione was left alone.  
Well, not exactly alone.  
She turned her eyes away from the door and towards the bed. Her breath caught in her throat. At the same time, happiness, pain, relief, and sorrow overcame her, and Hermione leaned against a nearby wall to stop herself from collapsing.  
She had not expected to be hit so hard and so she was not ready. With heavy heart she walked to the bed and sat down beside her soulmate.  
He was beautiful. Decidedly, the most beautiful person she had ever seen. She found Glorfindel, Arwen, and the other elves mesmerizing, but Legolas was simply breath-taking. Even in this state he glowed angelically. His skin was fair, his hair almost white, braided so that it did not get into his face.  
Hermione longed to touch his cheek, to kiss his lips, and to hold his hand, but she took control of herself and thought of what Lord Elrond had told her.  
She needed to seek their bond, to follow it, and to find him. Not knowing what to do, only following her intuition, she took his hand in hers and closed her eyes.  
Immediately, she was overcome with many different senses. Smells, sounds, and the feel of skin upon skin. But Hermione did not let it all hinder her. She focused on her magic, her core, the very centre of her being, and searched for the thread that would lead her to Legolas.  
It was a new experience, such concentration on her being, and she knew she would be trying it again at a later date, but for the moment Hermione focused.  
There were a few bonds. A familial one, with her parents and the elder Weasleys. The fraternal ones with Harry, Ron, and George. One was broken, so alike George’s. Hermione turned away form it. Friendship bonds with Neville, Luna, Ginny… And so many broken ones. And then there was a silvery thread, stretched out so very much, just about breaking, and Hermione latched on to it.  
That was it, the bond she was looking for. Now, she had to follow it and find her soulmate, take him and lead him back to the light.  
She did not know what to expect from this experience, but it certainly was not that. For she suddenly found herself in a forest. It was similar to the Forbidden Forest in Hogwarts, but there was something about it that did not feel the same. Then she realised. The trees were sentient. Unlike the Forbidden Forest, where she had to touch the trees to feel their emotions, here they were very clear even from a distance. And what an emotion it was…  
The trees were in mourning and grief. Hermione could physically feel their pain, and it hurt her. She wanted to ask, to make them feel better, but they were trees! Trees do not speak! Hermione wanted to touch the trees, share comfort, but all of them were just out of her reach, for she knew, somehow, that she was not to let go of the silver thread. If she did, she would get lost in this wood, never to be seen again.  
And thus, she continued, trying her hardest to ignore the pain radiating in waves. In addition, the further she walked, the stronger it got, although Hermione could not be sure if it was true, or if it was the overexposure that affected her so greatly.  
After walking what seemed like hours, Hermione stopped as she reached a bridge. It was made of white stone and crossed a river whose waters had just fallen down from great heights. On her left Hermione could see a waterfall. It looked magical with the Sun shining upon it. Hermione forgot the pain for a moment and smiled softly at the sight. She wondered, where such beauty could exist, if it did. She wished to immerse herself into the cold, white water and feel the river coursing over her body. If she would just let go, just for a second…  
Then she came back to her senses. She was there on a mission, a very important one. She could find a waterfall later. This was certainly not the time, however enticing the place was.  
Hermione continued her quest. She crossed the bridge and came upon a gate that seemed to lead into the mountain. It was shut, but the silver thread went beyond it, so Hermione tried her luck in opening in by simple pushing. When that did not work, she pulled. However, the majestic door stayed where it was. Hermione sat down with her legs crossed on the ground contemplating it.  
Since the thread was going further inside, there had to be a way to open the door. She could not let go, so that meant no looking for an alternative way of entering. If only there was-  
Hermione sighed. She had magic, she could open virtually any door with a simple first-year spell. So, she pulled out her wand cast a wandless ‘Alohomora’. Something inside clicked, and Hermione pulled on the gate. It opened soundlessly to allow her entrance.  
The place she entered was magnificent. As suspected, it was the inside of a mountain. There were caves upon caves. They were joined by bridges made of stone and wood. It seemed that the trees on top of and inside the mountain had taken it upon themselves to decorate the place, for the pillars and the bridges were often wrapped in roots and branches.  
Hermione was happy to see that the river and part of the waterfall had breached inside. In the depths of the caves water ran making the air feel fresh, while the sound made Hermione relax. She realised with a start that she stopped feeling the pain of the trees outside as soon as the gate behind her closed again. She could breathe freely again.  
Hermione continued walking. The bond led her over numerous bridges, some of them just made of roots of the trees, but hard and strong. Her eyes wandered as she walked. It was generally quite dark here, but there were openings at the top of the cave system that let the light in as it passed through the thick canopy of the trees on top of the mountain. Where no light could reach the ground, there hung lamps, lighting the way. Both sources provided with a soft golden hue that made the place feel like home even though Hermione had never been there before.  
It seemed that her journey was coming to an end, she noticed. The silvery shine was becoming more intense, just like it had been near her core.  
Hermione entered what looked like a throne room. From the bridge upwards led wooden stairs that ended just before reaching a massive throne of branches and what looked like the antlers of an elk. Nobody was sitting on the throne, it was empty.  
However, there was someone on the stairs, sitting with their legs hanging over the edge. Still without letting go of the thread, Hermione cautiously walked towards the person and realised it was the one she was looking for.  
‘Legolas?’ she called his name softly, and his head snapped towards her.  
He seemed to grasp for something but then his face twisted into slight irritation when he did not find it. Instead, he stood up and took up a fighting stance.  
‘I am not here to hurt you,’ Hermione said simply. ‘I’m here to take you back.’  
‘Back?’ he frowned. ‘Back to where? I am home. Though it is very empty.’  
‘Back to light,’ Hermione smiled.  
‘Who are you?’  
‘I am Hermione,’ she introduced herself. ‘A wizard called Mithrandir summoned me, because I am your soulmate.’  
Legolas stepped down the stairs slowly and took a good look at her. Hermione tried not to feel self-conscious and flinch.  
‘You are not an elf,’ he noted. ‘But you are not a simple woman, either. What are you?’  
‘I am a witch. Like Mithrandir, I can wield magic. Although it is quite different than his,’ Hermione answered truthfully.  
‘It is not,’ Legolas countered, and Hermione looked at him questioningly. ‘Yours is more controlled than his, though. You seem to have a very firm grasp of it.’  
She did not answer but filed his word for later reference. It was an interesting take on her powers, and she could not wait to talk about it with Mithrandir and, possibly, with Legolas as well.  
‘But you still have not answered my question,’ Legolas continued. ‘Where do you want to take me?’  
‘Do you remember, what happened before you came here?’ Hermione asked him while he was still looking at her warily. ‘Why you are here.’  
Legolas turned away his gaze and frowned looking down.  
‘I was riding west, with two of my kin. I was to meet Aragorn,’ Legolas looked up at her. ‘Is that right?’  
‘What happened next?’  
‘There was a large pack of orcs. I saw them kill Einiorhil and Hereward,’ Legolas’ face contorted in pain. ‘I was shot, too,’ he looked up at her sharply. ‘Am I dead? Is this not real? Is this all in my head?’  
Hermione smiled at his words, suddenly remembering Harry’s tale of Dumbledore in King’s Cross. So, she paraphrased his words:  
‘It is all in your head, but it does not mean that it is not real,’ she smiled softly. ‘You are not dead. Not yet, at least, but you will be if you stay here.’  
‘You’re not really here,’ Legolas frowned. ‘You are just figment of my imagination.’  
This time Hermione smiled widely.  
‘Some imagination you should have, to make up a witch from another world. No, I am not a figment of your imagination, Legolas. I am very real. At the moment, back in Rivendell, I am sitting on your bed beside you,’ she responded. ‘Your friend, a man in silver garb, had just left the room. They are all hoping to get you back.’  
‘Why didn’t Lord Elrond heal me?’  
‘He did, to the best of his ability, but you are yet to wake up. Soon, or the darkness will take you. They called me as their last resort,’ Hermione explained and finally gave up standing.  
She sat down, careful not to let go of the thread she was still holding.  
‘What is it that you are grasping?’ Legolas reached out to touch the thread but retracted his hand at the last moment. ‘It must be very uncomfortable to hold on like this. And why is it so tight?’  
Hermione couldn’t help smiling lightly. A man after her own heart, indeed.  
‘It’s the thread joining your soul to mine. It is tight because you are barely alive. If you die, it will break,’ Hermione whispered the last part. ‘This thread is what led me here. I followed it. I cannot let go; if I do, I will get lost.’  
Legolas studied the silvery thread curiously. Hermione watched with fascination the different expressions on his face. He truly was a beautiful being.  
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ Legolas whispered without looking at her, and Hermione ducked her head in embarrassment. ‘Hermione?’ he took a chance with her name, as she called him by his.  
It sounded rather odd, coming from him, Hermione noted. Her name was not translated, so she heard it exactly how he pronounced it. It was accented. Odd, but it sounded appealing. Hermione liked it.  
‘You are very beautiful, even for an elf,’ Hermione answered snapping out of her thoughts but did not look up, so she missed a smile on Legolas’ face.  
‘Quite a compliment from a beauty like yourself,’ he stated sitting down in front of her. To his surprise, Hermione snorted, in a very un-lady-like manner.  
‘It’s not necessary to reply to a compliment with a compliment. And certainly not with a dishonest one.’  
‘I was being honest,’ Legolas, for the first time in his near-three-thousand-year life, was confused about a woman who did not like his compliment. ‘Why would you think otherwise?’  
Hermione looked up at him and for the first time saw his eyes. They were very light blue, almost grey, but held a lot of weight in them, a lot of wisdom. She couldn’t tell if it was light, or if his eyes actually sparkled. She got lost in them for a moment but then snapped herself out of it.  
‘It doesn’t matter.’  
‘It does.’  
‘No, it does not,’ Hermione stated stubbornly.  
‘Well, I am not going anywhere until you tell me. I am patient, I can wait,’ Legolas crossed his legs and made himself comfortable while Hermione scoffed in annoyance.  
‘Rubbish, absolute rubbish,’ she muttered under her breath making Legolas smirk at her frustration. ‘We haven’t got the time!’  
‘Well, then, you better start talking, Hermione.’  
The woman closed her eyes to calm down, to control herself from snapping. He was bloody annoying! Merlin, give her strength.  
Hermione had half-a-mind to tell him that they did not have time to waste, that he would die, and, in turn, she would die. But that went against her morals. That would be guilt-tripping him into going with her, and Hermione did not want him to regain his will to live just out of guilt for putting her life in danger.  
Besides, she knew before she put herself there, that saving his life involved risks.  
Hermione breathed heavily before opening her eyes to see Legolas watching her curiously.  
‘I haven’t received many compliments about my appearance in my life. I have nothing to complain about, though. I do value my intelligence above all else, after all. But it is nice to hear someone calling me pretty. But I haven’t been for a long time. And while you say you are honest, I cannot help but doubt it because when I look in a mirror, I don’t see anything special. Just plain old me,’ Hermione told him simply.  
Silence overcame them. Hermione was playing with a loose thread on her dress, while Legolas was watching her. Neither wanted to speak and interrupt the silence, but both knew it had to be done eventually.  
‘Will you tell me about your home?’ Legolas asked her after what felt like hours. ‘You said you are from another world. Your manner of speaking is odd. And I have never before witnessed a maiden sit like this,’ he smiled slightly.  
Hermione laughed breathlessly.  
‘Yeah, you wouldn’t. I haven’t worn a dress for a long time. It makes it difficult to run,’ Hermione shrugged. ‘As for my manner of speaking, you might find it odd because you and I speak through a translation spell. My native language is nothing like what you speak here. Any of your languages. Until I learn them, the spell will have to suffice. I find the way you all speak odd because we haven’t been speaking like that for a long time. What I hear through the spell sounds very old.’  
‘Do women not wear dresses where you come from?’ Legolas asked curiously after giving her explanation a consideration.  
‘They do, but not like this. The ones we usually wear are much shorter and much more form-fitting. Most women, though, wear trousers, just like men. Our attire is much different from yours. The materials we use to make clothes are much different, too. People in my world have come up with many ways of making materials. Some are very fine, silk-like, but synthetic or artificial,’ Hermione explained, or at least attempted to. ‘It is all very unlike here.’  
She suddenly realised just how ridiculous her situation was, how different her world was from his. Them being soulmates was something extraordinary. So unlikely that it almost felt like a miracle.  
‘It must be difficult for you,’ Legolas frowned at her. ‘Hermione, why did you agree to this? You do not know me. How could you simply leave to save a stranger whose name was the only thing you knew?’  
‘I save people, that’s what I do,’ Hermione shrugged. ‘I could not possibly leave you to die if there was something I was able to do. I would have blamed myself for the rest of my life. I simply cannot stand by and let people suffer when there is something I can do about it. Lord Elrond and Mithrandir went through all that trouble to find me, Glorfindel had to talk a herd of centaurs from killing me, and then there’s you… I did find you, didn’t I?’ she offered a smile.  
‘You did,’ Legolas nodded sadly, ‘but I am not sure that is such a good thing,’ he sighed and looked at her with pain-filled eyes. ‘I cannot live without you, but even if I give up my immortality for you, we both will still experience immense pain upon the other’s death.’  
‘You can give up immortality?’ Hermione tilted her head curiously. ‘I did not know that,’ but then she snapped out to answer Legolas. ‘Not the point now. I’ve thought this through already. More times than necessary, believe me,’ she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. ‘I’ve asked Lord Elrond. He said that I will be alive for as long as you live. Before you ask, why, I don’t know.’  
Legolas was still deep thought, but his face brightened considerably. Hermione smiled softly at the sight.  
‘You still haven’t told me about your home.’  
Hermione smiled and looked down before telling him about Hogwarts, the teachers, the students, and, most importantly, her family. She spoke about Harry, Ron, Fred and George. About Ginny, Luna, Neville. About the people she had lost, but who had been her close friends, even family: Remus and Tonks, Sirius. She told him about her parents, about her decision not to restore their memories. Hermione skipped her adventures with her two friends, thinking that she would get a chance to tell him some other time. It was still a rather sore subject.  
‘Will you tell me about your home?’ Hermione asked after she was done talking.  
‘This, what you see around, is my home. The Woodland Realm. I do not have brothers nor sisters. My mother was killed when I was very young. I do not remember her, and my father never speaks of her. He had told me that she loved me once, but it hurts him to speak of her,’ Legolas frowned. ‘After her death he mostly took care of me and our people.’  
Hermione suddenly realised why exactly they were in the throne room.  
‘Bloody Arwen,’ she muttered.  
‘She did not tell you that about me,’ Legolas stated.  
‘To be fair, she told me nothing about you. Just that your name is Legolas,’ Hermione decided to skip the part where Arwen said he was handsome. ‘None of them did.’  
‘Hm,’ Legolas raised an eyebrow.  
‘Is Arwen your childhood friend?’ Hermione asked curiously. ‘She seemed to care for you.’  
‘I met Arwen only about thirty years ago. It was the first time I came to Rivendell.’  
‘Only thirty,’ Hermione shook her head laughing lightly.  
‘Thirty years are a blink of an eye in the life of an elf, Hermione,’ Legolas told her. ‘If what you told me is true, then you will get to see it for yourself.’  
At this Hermione straightened up.  
‘Will I?’  
Legolas nodded, which rewarded him with a bright smile.  
‘I believe we should be leaving,’ he said and stood up before offering her his hand.  
Hermione took it and he pulled her up. Hermione smiled in thanks.  
‘Are you ready?’  
‘Yes.’  
Together they started walking back to the gate of the palace. Hermione was still holding on to the silver thread while Legolas walked beside her. However, with every step towards the outside, he seemed to hesitate more and more.  
‘I remember now, why I ran here,’ he whispered. ‘Those trees are in pain, and I can’t help them. It hurts, Hermione.’  
‘I know,’ she nodded. ‘I felt it all too.’  
Legolas nodded at her to open the door while closing his eyes to calm himself. Hermione took her wand, unlocked the door, and then reached her hand to take his. He hesitantly took it and Hermione twined their fingers together. She pushed the gate open and was immediately overcome with pain.  
‘Hermione, I cannot go back,’ Legolas whispered to her. ‘It hurts too much.’  
‘Legolas,’ she held his hand in hers, ‘please. If it becomes too much, we can go back here. I promise.’  
He looked at her, but then nodded, and, with a deep breath, they walked out.

They did not turn back. As per Hermione’s experience, the deeper they were in the woods, the bigger and stronger was the pain. Now, since they were walking out, the pain was becoming less and less.  
They distracted each other with talking until they were out of the forest and back to where Hermione had started.  
They both sensed it was the end. They would have to wake up soon. However, neither knew, how.  
‘What happens next?’ Legolas asked Hermione, but she did not have an answer.  
‘We need to wake up. Perhaps it is for me to snap myself out of the meditative state,’ she frowned. ‘I think I will try that. You stay close to me.’  
Hermione turned to walk but Legolas caught her hand.  
‘Will you be there when I wake up?’  
Hermione smiled at him softly.  
‘Of course, I will be there,’ she hesitated before leaning up and kissing his cheek. ‘Now come. It is time we face the real world.’  
They sat on the ground again, and Hermione closed her eyes focusing again on herself, but this time in the opposite direction.


	4. The Sleeping Beauty Awakens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. Any references to books, movies, or TV shows belong to their respectful owners, I do not own any of them. Any similarities to other works are not intentional.

Hermione woke up but did not open her eyes. She realised she was lying down on a bed, still in her clothes. She could feel the sun shining onto her bare feet, and there was still the birds’ song.  
Around her Hermione heard the rustling of clothes as somebody walked past. Soon, she realised why. From a bed somewhere else in the room, she heard a groan.  
‘Look who has awakened,’ a man said in a rather teasing tone, but relief was clear in it.  
‘Hermione?’ she heard Legolas’ voice.  
‘Not quite,’ the man laughed. ‘Or do I look like her much?’  
‘You wish you did,’ Legolas said. ‘Where is she?’  
‘She is here, on the bed next to yours. Gandalf said she had exhausted herself. She needs to rest properly before she can do anything else. She will be alright, Legolas, stay here,’ the man seemed to struggle to keep Legolas down.  
‘I’m okay,’ Hermione whispered weakly from her bed and cringed at her raspy voice. ‘Just tired. I think I’ll go back to sleep,’ Hermione sighed and turned on her side before opening her eyes a little bit and smiling at the blond elf who had a worried look in his eyes. ‘I’m glad you are okay.’  
She didn’t hear his answer, or if there even was one, for her eyes closed, and Hermione fell asleep. 

When Hermione awoke again, she felt quite well rested. She could properly open her eyes without feeling the need to close them again, other than to save them from the sudden need to adjust to the light.  
One by one, her senses came to her, and the first thing she noticed was that she was alone in the room. That made her a bit sad for she expected certain someone to be there.  
Not letting herself dwell on it, Hermione continued of extracting information about the environment. Someone had put a soft duvet on her to ward off the cold. On a table beside her bed lied her wand, and there was a book left neatly on a chair by her feet.  
Hermione sat up, stretched, and reached for the book. It was an old tome, leather-bound and heavy, but still in a very good condition, and she wondered if maybe there was a special kind of way to ward the books from decay, other than spells people of these lands did not seem to know or even have.  
She opened the book only to realise that it was written in a language she could not understand. The symbols were nothing like she had ever seen, and she traced them curiously with her finger. Some of them resembled Latin symbols, some perhaps Cyrillic, but Hermione could not make sense of what was written.  
She put learning the language and the writing system on her to-do list.  
Hermione put the book back to its place and took her wand instead. She cast a Tempus charm to see it was a very early morning. No wonder, then, that Rivendell was silent, and nobody was there. Hermione did remember, though, that the Elves did not exactly sleep. It was more like resting their bodies while staying conscious. Or at least that was what Arwen had said.  
Hermione decided she might as well get up. She would not be able to sleep for now, and she had got her rest. It was time to face the reality.  
However, before she could get out of the bed, the door opened and in walked Arwen. She smiled upon seeing Hermione awake.  
‘It is good to see you awake, Hermione,’ she said. ‘Has it been long?’  
‘Just about five minutes,’ Hermione shrugged.  
‘Hm, Legolas is going to be very annoyed,’ Arwen laughed quietly. ‘Estel dragged him out of your room no more than ten minutes ago. He has not left your side ever since he woke up himself.’  
Hermione smiled to herself softly but did not reply, nor did she notice the knowing look Arwen was giving her. Then she suddenly looked up.  
‘Who is Estel?’  
It was Arwen’s turn to smile softly at the mention.  
‘He is the one who was here when Legolas woke up. He said you had been briefly awake, too,’ Arwen looked at Hermione questioningly.  
‘Yes, I was. Is he the man in silver?’  
Arwen chuckled at that description but nodded.  
‘In brown most of the time, but last time you saw him, he was indeed wearing silver clothes.’  
Hermione nodded and then got up from her bed. She noticed her dress was no longer there. Instead, she was wearing a nightgown. At her confused expression Arwen laughed.  
‘Do not worry, Hermione. I asked some maids to help me change you into something more comfortable for sleeping. You had been wearing that dress for long enough, it was time to change,’ Arwen explained, which caught Hermione’s attention.  
‘How long was I out?’  
‘It took you five days to lead Legolas back,’ Arwen spoke solemnly, ‘and you have been asleep for twelve more.’  
Hermione sat down in shock. Seventeen days?! She was unconscious for good half of a month!  
‘Do not worry, Hermione.’ Arwen sounded worried herself. ‘You are alright now. You will be back to normal in no time, I promise you. Now, let us get you dressed and fed. You must be very hungry.’  
‘Would you mind terribly if I took a bath first?’ Hermione asked shyly, but Arwen’s smile made her feel better instantly.  
‘Of course not!’ 

After bathing and changing into some new clothes – a long-sleeved dress, again, Hermione felt fresh and ready for the day. But first, she needed to eat.  
During the would-be seventh year of her education, Hermione and her companions had experienced starvation. There wasn’t much they could do about food and they certainly could not make it with magic – exception to the Gamp’s Law of Transfiguration stating so, no matter Ron’s raving about his mother’s cooking. Harry had taken it better than either of his friends, a thought that made Hermione feel sad and angry every time. However, during their quest Hermione had taken it upon herself to make sure the other two didn’t die, so her portions of food were always the smallest, just enough to sustain her and keep her on her feet.  
The first time she ate Molly’s food, it made her sick. Even after months, Hermione could barely eat. Of course, slowly she was regaining her previous appetite and form, but both she and Madam Pomfrey, who was tasked to take care of her, knew that there was still a long way to go.  
Now, after seventeen days of no food to sustain her, Hermione knew she had just taken a big leap backwards in her healing. However, there was nothing she could do but control herself, eat in little bites and little portions.  
To Hermione’s relief, when Arwen led her to the Dining Hall it was empty. Hermione’s dislike for attention was still prominent, but she had given up trying to blend in with the background after all these years as the Chosen One’s best friend. She knew that if there had been people in the Dining Hall, she would be forced to endure endless attention from them. She would not be able to eat in peace and further her healing ever more.  
The two females sat down and started eating while conversing in light topics. However, Arwen, even while not pointing it out, noticed Hermione’s small appetite. She knew it was for the best that Hermione ate little for now but decided to watch the witch closely.  
As they were ending their meal, Lord Elrond, Glorfindel, and Mithrandir walked in talking, but stopped when they saw Hermione.  
She stood up in greeting and with a little smile on her face.  
‘It is good to see you are well, Miss Granger,’ Lord Elrond offered her a smile.  
‘Thank you, Lord Elrond,’ she nodded.  
‘Are you in your full strength?’ Mithrandir asked her. ‘Your magic had depleted to very low levels, Miss Granger, I was starting to fear for the worst.’  
Hermione sighed at that. It had not been the first time. After the battle in the Department of Mysteries her body had to take a lot of time to recover too, as well as after the Final Battle. Admittedly, not twelve days of raw sleep, but still. She was prone to danger like that.  
‘I am sorry to have scared you,’ Hermione smiled at him. ‘But I am all better now. I will be fine, I just need to stop myself from overexerting. It is not the first time for me, I know what to do. You need not worry.’  
Neither Mithrandir, nor Lord Elrond voiced their opinions on her statement, and decided to let it go for the time being. They joined Arwen and Hermione at the table, though sat further down to speak, while Glorfindel joined Arwen and Hermione in their conversation.  
‘I would ask where your soulmate is, but I saw Estel almost drag him out of Imladris with their horses,’ Glorfindel spoke with mirth in his eyes. ‘Legolas is going to be very annoyed you had awakened, and he was not there with you.’  
‘You are having way too much fun with this,’ Hermione laughed. ‘What did the poor elf do to you?’  
‘He annoyed me. I oftentimes wished I was in the presence of Balrog instead of him,’ Glorfindel stated. ‘Moping around all the time. You would think his soulmate was unconscious,’ he joked.  
Hermione rolled her eyes laughing and turned back to her meal. 

Since Legolas and Estel were still out, Hermione decided to explore Rivendell. Her first stop was, of course, the library. With Lord Elrond’s permission, she walked in and started browsing.  
She still could not understand the writings, but just being in the presence of books calmed her down.  
Hermione stopped at one particular book that looked rather familiar to her. She could have sworn she had seen it somewhere before, but it could not have been the case. It was written in the elvish (she decided to call them) runes. The only place she could have encountered it was Rivendell. It was not the same book she had found in her room, she was sure, so why was this familiar?  
She was pulled out of her state of mind when she felt a presence behind her. Hermione’s war reflexes kicked in, and she turned swiftly with her wand raised. She came upon a blond elf who looked at her quite passively, but his stance was defensive.  
Hermione retracted her wand quickly.  
‘I’m sorry!’ she breathed out a sigh of relief. ‘You startled me.’  
‘Do not worry, Miss Granger. It is my own fault, I have come up behind you. I apologise,’ the elf’s voice was deep.  
‘Well,’ Hermione smiled slightly, ‘let us accept that it was both of our faults. May I help you? You seem to know my name, but I don’t know yours.’  
‘I am Thranduil. Legolas is my son,’ he introduced himself.  
Hermione was left speechless for a moment, but then collected herself and bowed her head, but, to her surprise, the King raised her chin up to face him.  
‘You saved my son, Miss Granger, you do not bow to me,’ he told her. ‘You are also Legolas’ soulmate, I hear.’  
‘I am, My Lord,’ Hermione replied.  
‘I must confess, I was initially quite angered to hear you were a woman, a mortal,’ he told her honestly, but Hermione did not look down, in shame or otherwise. ‘I realise you think it is not just of me to be so, but Legolas is my son, and loving a mortal, being bound to one, would lead to his death.’  
He waited for her response. Hermione mulled through his words knowing he was right. Legolas would either die of old age or sorrow, neither of which seemed a good alternative.  
‘I understand. However, I take it you have spoken to Lord Elrond,’ she stated, ‘given that you used the word initially.’  
‘Indeed, I have spoken to Elrond, and he has assured me that your life is quite literally bound to Legolas’. I thank you for saving his life.’  
Hermione did not have an answer to that, so she just nodded.  
‘I will take my leave, Lady Hermione,’ the King gave her a half-smile.  
‘Please, just call me Hermione. I am no lady,’ Hermione asked him simply.  
‘Perhaps you were not before, but you are the soulmate of the Prince of Woodland Realm. That makes you the Princess. Consequently, your title as a lady does hold,’ his smirk told Hermione he was enjoying the little amusement he got from seeing her shock.  
‘Merlin,’ she whispered. ‘What have I got myself into?’  
‘Welcome to Middle-Earth, Lady Hermione,’ King Thranduil smirked and turned around before walking away.  
Hermione sighed and looked down. She just then saw the book she was still holding in her hand. She contemplated going after the King to ask what it was, but then decided against it. He was, after all, a king, not her interpreter. So, she took the book and started walking towards the desks by the windows where she could maybe try and use some magic to read the book.  
Hermione sat down with her legs under her and opened the book. For the most part, it was just text, but some parts were illustrated. As she had expected, the pictures looked familiar. She just couldn’t put her finger on it.  
Then, suddenly, she felt something. Not something bad. Quite the opposite, actually. It was a pull at her body as a whole. Hermione turned her head towards the direction of the door to the library. She could not hear anything, but she could feel someone approaching. She realised after a second, who it was. The tug she felt was on her soul bond, which effectively meant that it was Legolas who had entered the room.  
Hermione put the book away and stood up. She smiled upon seeing her guess was right; it was Legolas. Both of them smiled, but neither knew what to say. However, Hermione decided to start by simply greeting him.  
‘Hello.’  
‘Hermione,’ Legolas seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. ‘I am so happy you are well. I was starting to worry that you might not wake up.’  
He walked towards her slowly, as if frightened that he will scare her away. When she did not step away, he hugged her and kissed her head. Hermione wrapped her arms around his torso and closed her eyes with her head resting against his chest.  
She had to admit that she had never felt this content in her life before. She was relaxed, happy, and so incredibly comfortable. Everything around her seemed to be in tune, every one of her senses were pleased. She never wanted it to end.  
But they had to pull away sometime, so she reluctantly did, but Legolas did not let her go much further than a small step away.  
‘Well, I’m okay. I just need not to overstep my boundaries,’ she shrugged. ‘How are you? All well? Arwen told me about your friend,’ she smirked, ‘and Glorfindel informed me about you moping around. Rumour has it, I have that effect on you.’  
Legolas actually rolled his eyes at that.  
‘Those two are such gossips.’  
Hermione laughed, but then decided to ask, still.  
‘Did you?’  
‘I’ll have you know, My Lady, I do not mope around,’ Legolas narrowed his eyes at her, but then his expression became genuine. ‘I was worried about you.’  
‘You’re very sweet,’ Hermione smiled up at him softly.  
Without thinking much of it, she brought her hand up to caress his cheek. Legolas leaned into her touch and turned his head to kiss her palm. For a second, they just enjoyed their little world, but it came to an end. Hermione let her hand rest on his shoulder, but his were still on her waist.  
‘I saw my father leave the library,’ Legolas hinted, and Hermione scrunched up her nose. ‘What’s wrong?’  
‘He, erm,’ Hermione tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, ‘he called me… He called me a lady, and I told him I am not, so he told me that since I’m your soulmate, that makes me a princess,’ Hermione said quickly. ‘By which I don’t mean to offend anyone, it’s just a lot to take in,’ she sighed heavily and looked down at her feet with a frown.  
It was all so new to her. She had discovered an alternate universe, and that her soulmate existed in that universe. Not to mention, that soulmate was an elf – an immortal creature. And in addition to all of that, she suddenly was thrusted upon with a title of a princess of a land she had never been in, except for in her soulmate’s memory. It was all too much.  
Hermione looked up when Legolas lifted her chin up.  
‘Hermione, nobody is expecting anything from you, I promise,’ he wiped away a stray tear she had not even noticed prior. ‘Maybe someday, but certainly not now, not for years to come. It is merely a title that you apparently now have,’ Legolas smiled as her lips twitched. ‘I did not know that, but if my father says so, then it must be true. He would not call you a lady in jest.’  
‘I know, I’m sorry,’ Hermione said a bit tearfully, ‘I was just shocked. Other than that, he is quite nice. If a bit distant.’  
‘He is like that, but he cares a lot about our people. And about me. We had our differences in the past, but I understand him now. A lot better than I had before, at least. And if he personally came to talk to you, it should mean a lot to you, too. He normally does not search out for people. He calls them, and they come,’ Legolas smirked at the last bit.  
‘Yes, I bet they do,’ Hermione shook her head smiling, then bit her lip. ‘I have a question.’  
‘Yes?’  
‘I was wondering if you had any spare time to teach me your language,’ Hermione unconsciously tucked her hair behind her ear. Again. That she noticed. ‘I have that spell, but it would be really nice to know how to communicate with people. And also, if the spell didn’t hold for some reason, I could still speak. And, I can’t read any of the books in the library, because it only works with spoken language. I could probably figure out, how to modify the spell, I will try, actually, but,’ Hermione exhaled and smiled sheepishly. ‘I’m sorry for rambling like this. I just don’t want to burden anyone with myself. I don’t want to burden you, either, to be honest.’  
‘Of course, I will teach you,’ Legolas took her hand and kissed her knuckles. ‘To the best of my ability. And when I cannot, I am sure anyone you ask will help you. What was the book you were examining just when I came here?’  
Hermione was suddenly reminded of the familiar-looking book and frowned.  
‘I don’t know. I took it because it looked and felt familiar, for some reason. Like I have already read it once before, but that can’t be the case, can it?’ Hermione pulled away from Legolas and walked to the desk to take the book.  
He followed Hermione and took the book from her immediately frowning upon seeing the title.  
‘It is a history book.’  
‘History of what?’ Hermione asked before reaching for it, but Legolas hesitated before giving it back. ‘Legolas, what is it?’  
‘I do not think this is a book to start learning with,’ he said. ‘It’s a history of the dark lords.’  
‘So, I have read it,’ Hermione smiled victoriously and grabbed the book.  
She opened the last chapter to see what it was about and instantly recognised the symbols she had once seen in a book from Hogwarts Library.  
‘It had more pages in it, though,’ Hermione said mindlessly going through the book. ‘It’s one of the first I read when I had to help Harry,’ the words tumbled out of her mouth before she realised it, and she cursed inwardly.  
‘What exactly was it that you helped him with, if you needed information on dark magic?’ Legolas asked her in an odd voice.  
Hermione looked up at him and raised a brow.  
‘I did not help him become one, if that’s what you were thinking. Quite the opposite, actually,’ she said carefully.  
Hermione considered her possibilities. She could drag it out and let it sit, or she could just tell him and be done with it. There was still a lot they had to speak about, but those seven years of war were a large part of her life. Main part of her life, to be specific. He would have to find out, eventually. Perhaps, she could quicken that eventuality a little bit.  
‘Hermione?’ Legolas’ voice woke her up.  
‘Legolas, we still have a lot of things to discuss,’ she stated. ‘I have some things to tell you. Very big things, that took up a large part of my life and made me who I am today. But they are difficult to speak of, and it is a long tale. And for now, I don’t want anyone else to know about it. For now, it can only be you,’ Hermione’s voice was very silent and rather strained.  
She had thought for a long time that she had dealt with the war quite well. Sure, she had nightmares, but after her lovely session with Bellatrix, who wouldn’t? She had scars, physical and emotional, but they could heal. She knew they could.  
What she had not realised until she came back to Hogwarts for her last year was that she had not grieved properly and that she had elevated reflexes. Hermione saw ghosts of her past in every corner of the large castle: where they died, where she had held a conversation long time passed, or simply where she had last seen them. She avoided the corridor where Fred died like the plague. For the longest time, Hermione could not force herself to go to the Great Hall, because instead of rows of tables she kept seeing rows of corpses of her dead friends and acquaintances. It also seemed that Moody’s lessons had finally got through to her. She could not get herself to relax unless she saw everything in the room, the first thing she did upon entering one was counting and planning the routes of escape, and she never left her wand. She slept with hers in an invisible holster Bill had given her. Library was no longer a safe haven, either. Hermione always sat with her back free, so that she could run, but at the same time it was the way that she could see everything and everyone around. Nobody dared to try and surprise her after Ginny jokingly jumped on her from behind and ended up with a several broken ribs, a broken nose, and a cracked skull after Hermione’s Reductor Curse flew past Luna’s quickly erected shield and shattered that to pieces before hitting Ginny. Hermione had locked herself in her room for the rest of the week after that incident.  
And so, talking about what that blasted war did to her to a person she knew for a few days sounded quite difficult, but at the same time, Hermione knew that she needed to tell Legolas. And she had decided it would be best to do it sooner rather than later. She trusted he would not run away from her. She trusted him, funnily enough. It was just her soul telling her that it would all be alright.  
‘Do you want to talk now?’ Legolas asked her and, after receiving her nod, took her hand. ‘I know a place. Come with me.’


	5. Per Aspera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. Any references to books, movies, or TV shows belong to their respectful owners, I do not own any of them. Any similarities to other works are not intentional.

To anyone who saw them walking down the corridors it looked like a simple wandering around. Nobody thought Hermione and Legolas were walking to a place where they could speak in private so that Hermione could reveal her true self, what she had been doing for the past eight years, reveal the truth about a war that was brought by fearful adults and fought by children.  
Hermione did not let Legolas walk too fast. She wanted to have time to think, how to start and how to tell him everything. She needed the jigsaw that her mind was divided into, to be put together. However, she soon realised it was not going to come to it.  
Of course, Hermione had to know that the place Legolas liked best in Rivendell would be that which most resembled his home. For he had led her to a forest and then a river bank, just high enough to be able to sit and put your feet into the water. Which they did. It made Hermione smile despite the situation. Still, she put up some protection spells and cast a _Mufliato_.  
She was glad Legolas did not push her into telling him. Rather, he just sat beside her while drawing lazily in her palm and looking into the water.  
‘There was a war,’ Hermione finally started, and the figures in her palm stopped abruptly, but resumed again after a moment. It was the only indication that Legolas heard her. ‘It all started long before I was born. Years and years back. I imagine not too long for you, but for us it all felt like an eternity. There was this man, called Tom Riddle. I find his tragic backstory to be of no importance, although some would say it was precisely that what made him do all those terrible things. He called himself Lord Voldemort, thought himself very clever, but in reality, he was nothing more than a pathetic man hungry for power and possessing no ability to care or love,’ Hermione said harshly. ‘Either way, his followers, called the Death Eaters, called him the Dark Lord. And he truly was one. He killed mercilessly, people of all genders and ages, all races. He did not care. All he wanted was pure blood. Wizards are, generally, divided into three categories: purebloods, half-bloods, and muggleborns. Pureblood wizards are those in whose families magical blood can be tracked back for hundreds of years. Half-blood wizards are mixed – one of their parents is magical and the other is a muggle – a non-magical person. The third group are muggleborn wizards. Their parents are both muggles. They have no magic in their family, therefore they are considered impure, their blood dirty. Some purebloods, particularly unpleasant ones, call them Mudbloods. Some called me that, too.’ Hermione stopped there for a second and breathed heavily to regain control over herself before continuing. ‘A lot of pure-blooded families believed in Voldemort’s ideas and joined him. His methods did not faze them, for they believed that Muggles and Mudbloods were filth, not worthy of living. They wanted the wizards to rule. However, about a year before I was born, a prophecy was made about a boy, who would be the downfall of Voldemort. A prophecy about a boy who was to be born as the seventh month died and whose parents had thrice defied the Dark Lord. _And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives_ ,’ Hermione recited the prophecy. ‘Voldemort only heard part of the prophecy, but he was scared. So, he figured out who the candidates were and started hunting them. There were two families. The first one was the Longbottom family. Two young Aurors, people who fight the dark wizards, had their first baby, a sweet boy, called Neville. The other family was the Potters. Their son was called Harry. Both of them, upon hearing about Voldemort wanting to kill the children, went into hiding. Voldemort, however, chose little Harry to kill. Unfortunately for James and Lily, there was a spy in their midst, the spy who happened to be the only person who knew the location of the Potters’ home. Peter Pettigrew sold the man who called him brother to Voldemort, and on Hallowe’en, Voldemort came to Godric’s Hollow to kill little Harry Potter. His parents died that night. First James, then Lily. When Voldemort uttered the Killing Curse to kill Harry, however, it rebounded, and Voldemort was no longer. The Dark Lord knew no love in his life and he had forgotten about magic old as the universe itself. He had forgotten about mother’s love. Lily had sacrificed her life for Harry to live and gave him a magical protection. That night many lives were lost or ruined. An innocent man was incarcerated with the foulest creatures on Earth for twelve years, because Pettigrew, the _rat_ ,’ Hermione spat out the word as if it tasted foul in her mouth, ‘was a traitor and a coward. He had faked his death, killing twelve innocent muggles in the process, and made it look like it had been done by Sirius Black, a man who was James’ brother in all but blood, who was loyal beyond belief, and who only wanted what was best for his best friend. The fourth man of the brotherhood, Remus, believed Sirius was a traitor and a killer, so he, too, mourned not only his dead friends, but the one he thought was his brother. Little Harry grew up without a proper family, with his aunt, uncle, and cousin who hated him for being magical. He suffered for ten years before he found out that he was a wizard. I met him on the train to Hogwarts.’ Hermione smiled lightly. ‘He was sitting with another boy, Ron, with sweet wraps all around them. I was looking for Neville’s toad when I stumbled upon them. We didn’t become friends until Hallowe’en, the last day of October. They fought a mountain troll for me.’ Hermione frowned slightly when she saw Legolas turn to her sharply in her peripheral. ‘Granted, they locked me in with it first. Accidentally. But they came back and saved me. We were friends ever since. At the end of the year, we went to save the Philosopher’s Stone. It's an artifact, that can prosuce a potion, which makes its user immortal. It turned out it had been Voldemort who was trying to get the stone so that he could come back to life. The next year, he tried again, this time by possessing a girl and absorbing her life force. She opened the Chamber of Secrets and unleashed a basilisk, which is a giant snake that kills you if you look into its eyes. I got petrified and spent the better part of the second semester in the hospital wing. When I was revived, I was graciously informed that Harry had killed the basilisk, saved Ginny, and destroyed Voldemort again.’  
Hermione stayed silent after that for a moment to calm her heart down to its normal pace.  
‘Hermione?’ She heard Legolas’ voice and hummed in response. ‘I hope you know that you are not obligated to tell me anything.’ His fingers on her cheek startled her slightly.  
‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘But I feel like I should. I feel like… I can. Like you would not think worse of me. I hope you won’t.’  
‘Of course, I will not. Are you certainit is what you want?’  
‘Yes, I am sure.’ She smiled slightly and took his hand off her face instead intertwining their fingers. ‘Voldemort didn’t show up in my third year. What happened was... Sirius Black escaped. Since everybody thought he was insane, Voldemort’s spy, and also after Harry, there was extra security on the castle. In my world, there are these foul creatures, called Dementors. I am not sure, what they are exactly, nor how they come to be, but they are dreadful. Every time one comes near, it makes you relive your worst memories. You feel like nothing will ever be alright, like all hope is lost, like no happiness will ever overcome you. They feed on it. If they are allowed, they perform what is called a Dementor’s Kiss. They take away your soul,’ Hermione said simply, and suddenly Legolas tightened his hold on her. ‘The only way to fend off a Dementor is a particular spell which is rather complicated, and most people cannot perform it, or can only do it half-way. It is called a Patronus Charm. It is formed by essentially creating the opposite of a Dementor. It is a creature of pure happiness and hope. It takes a form of an animal that represents you the best. Either way, we found out by the end of the year that Sirius was innocent, that _the rat_ was alive, and that everyone has been deceived. Unfortunately, on our way to the castle, Remus turned to his werewolf form because it was full moon. We had to run, Pettigrew escaped, and Sirius almost got kissed by a Dementor. I say almost because Harry and I went back in time and saved him. First from the Dementors, then from execution. Anyways.’ Hermione sighed and cringed at the next part. ‘In my fourth year, three schools - Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons - participated in a Triwizard Tournament, which is essentially a competition, made up of three incredibly difficult and lethally dangerous tasks. There was an age restriction that only let people over seventeen to participate, because that is when we are legally adults, but the Defence Professor we had that year turned out to be an imposter and had confused the Goblet of Fire, which was what chose the champions, and it made Harry one of them. He was forced to participate, due to a magical contract. After fighting a dragon for an egg, saving two people from under the water, and going through a deadly maze, Harry was sent to a cemetery where Pettigrew killed one of our fellow students and then resurrected Voldemort with Harry’s blood, so the protection his mother had granted no longer worked. When Harry escaped with Cedric’s dead body, nobody believed him. The entire summer the Ministry of Magic mixed Harry’s name with mud and made him look unstable. To gain control over Hogwarts, the Ministry sent one of their employees to _teach_ -’ Hermione snorted at the word, ‘- Defence Against the Dark Arts. Umbridge, a vile woman, made us just sit and read. We were not allowed to use our wands or spells of any kind. After I had enough, I suggested making a defence group to teach each other some proper spells, especially with the threat of Voldemort there, on the other side of the wards. It was secret, of course, but one of the members ratted us out.’ Hermione’s eyes blazed.  
She had heard many opinions over the years about her punishment of Marietta Edgecombe. Some told her she should have informed everyone of the implications, the others said she should have made the scarring disappear. Some said that it was not fair for Marietta when her Mother’s job was on the line. However, what Hermione hated more than anything were traitors. She never felt any remorse about Marietta. She knew that if the situation presented itself, she would do it again, and with her new expertise, perhaps worse.  
‘We got suspended,’ she continued. ‘And then we all got tortured. For punishments, Umbridge had made quills that wrote in blood. You would take it in one hand and then once you started writing, the words would etch themselves into your other hand. Then, it would heal. But after a while, the spell would wear off, and the wounds would no longer heal. The entirety of our club has those scars.’ Hermione gritted her teeth. ‘But that was not the worst part of the year. We had examinations that year. During our last one, Harry had a dream that Voldemort was torturing Sirius. Long story short, we ended up at the Ministry of Magic. With Death Eaters who had lured us into a trap. Sirius died that night. And my magic had depleted enough to put me to sleep for five days. In addition to a scar I will always bear made by dark magic.’  
Hermione mindlessly touched her ribs.  
‘At the end of our sixth year, the Headmaster was killed. He had taken Harry to find this magical object that would help to destroy Voldemort. It had weakened him, along with a cursed one before. He was disarmed and killed. We did not complete our seventh year. Before his death, Dumbledore had given a task to Harry, and in extension, to Ron and I. We were to find Horcruxes, objects that had pieces of Voldemort’s soul in them, and destroy them. To make a Horcrux, one has to complete a ritual. I will not talk about it, but it involves taking an innocent life. To make one Horcrux, to divide your soul into two, is painful enough. But Voldemort didn’t think it was enough. Instead, he had made seven. To destroy Voldemort, we had to find and destroy Horcruxes. So, we set out to do it. Two were destroyed already, we needed to find the rest. One was in possession of Umbridge, so we broke into the Ministry and stole it from her. But we did not know how to destroy it, so, to keep it safe, we took turns in wearing it. It is a very dark object, so it affected us all greatly. Harry least of all, but even he was moody, more so than usual. In winter, Ron finally snapped because he apparently thought we weren’t including him in our conversations. He was jealous of Harry because he thought there was something between us. Ron yelled at Harry that he didn’t have to worry about anything because all of his family was dead,’ Hermione said, and felt she was still angry at Ron.  
The realisation hit her: she had not forgiven Ron for leaving, she had not forgiven him for stabbing Harry like that.  
‘I thought I had forgiven him,’ Hermione said in a small voice and turned to Legolas. ‘I really did.’  
‘There are things that cannot be forgiven, Hermione,’ Legolas pulled her into a hug. ‘I think leaving at a time like that is one of them. For he left, did he not?’  
‘He did,’ Hermione whispered. ‘He came back later, and saved Harry’s life, but I never forgave him. I thought I had. Or maybe I wanted to believe I could be the bigger person and forgive his mistakes. Perhaps, there had been too many over the years,’ she wrapped her arms around his torso to find comfort. Especially for the next part.  
‘You do not need to always be forgiving, Hermione. Sometimes, the pain is too much to be forgotten. And you cannot forgive when pain is no longer. You want to forgive, you are kind, and that is enough.’ Legolas stroked her hair softly.  
Hermione nodded and buried her nose in the crook of his neck for a while before pulling away.  
‘A few months later, we were captured,’ Hermione continued with her story. ‘Voldemort's name was made a taboo. Harry said it and our wards collapsed instantly. We were captured and taken to Voldemort’s headquarters. I distorted Harry’s face so that they couldn’t tell it was him, but they still knew Ron, and I was all over the papers. Everything later happened because of a sword. Dumbledore had left Harry the Sword of Gryffindor, one of the founders of Hogwarts, but there was a copy of it in the Headmaster's office that everyone thought was real. It was taken to one of the Death Eaters, Bellatrix’s, vault for safe-keeping. One of the Snatchers who took us in had taken the sword. Bellatrix saw it and panicked. She thought we had stolen it from her, but we told her we had found it. To extract information...’ Hermione suddenly felt sick, and started regretting her decision to tell Legolas anything. But she was too far gone to stop now.  
‘Hermione are you well?’ Legolas frowned at her. ‘You look a bit too pale.’  
‘She tortured me.’ Hermione ignored his questions and observations. Her voice became flat. ‘For hours and hours. We have a spell for it. There is no need to get your hands dirty, no need for any instruments. Just a simple three-syllable word and it feels like a thousand white-hot knives are piercing every part of your body. You scream, and you shout, and you writhe in pain, but it only stops when she wants in to. She asks again, but if I tell her the truth, she does it again. And again. And again. And again. I screamed my voice hoarse by then, and I felt nothing after a while.’ Hermione stared off into the distance. ‘But she found a new way of inflicting pain. She had a cursed blade. She marked me for who I was, a _Mudblood_. It will never heal. It will forever be on my arm. I found my voice again, when she was carving it in. Funny, isn’t it.' Hermione laughed hollowly, but it turned into a sob.  
Before Hermione knew it, she crumbled into pieces. It was the first time she had cried about it. About war, about her scars, about… About being damaged goods. She was not whole. As much as she wished to mask it by confidence and sardonic humour, she could not keep it in forever. The dam broke when she found herself a safe space, with a person who made it safe to be vulnerable.  
It was ridiculous. She knew Legolas for a few days, and yet there she was, a blubbering mess while he was holding her.  
‘I’m sorry,’ she said after calming down slightly.  
‘Whatever for?’  
‘For breaking down like this. I honestly did not intend to become this mess.’ Hermione brushed away her tears. She waved her wand over herself and Legolas, casting a _Scourgify_.  
‘Hermione.’ Legolas seemed to be saying her name a lot that afternoon, she decided, but looked at him. ‘You should never apologise for breaking down.’  
‘I flew on a dragon.’ Hermione avoided the answer, and Legolas let it go for the time being. ‘We broke into Bellatrix’s vault and then had to get out, so we freed a dragon and we flew on it. Then we went to Hogwarts. There was a battle, where we all thought Harry was dead, but then he wasn’t.' Hermione didn't want to get too much into details. 'He fought Voldemort. In our history books it is written that we’d won, but they never mention what we had lost. So many lives, so many childhoods.’ Hermione shook her head sadly. ‘There are children left orphans because their parents chose to fight for the Greater Good. All of my peers, all of them, had lost something. There is not one person I know back home who has not lost someone. A parent, a sibling, a friend… All dead just because of one half-blood man who wanted to pretend to be pure. I lost a brother in that war,’ Hermione’s voice cracked. ‘Remember, I told you about Fred and George, twins, who always found humour in every situation. Fred was killed in that final battle. A stray spell hit a wall and it collapsed onto him. There was nothing we could have done. Nothing at all. I killed the bastard who did it. But it didn’t make it hurt any less. It never does, does it? Revenge doesn’t help with the pain. You wish it would, but… I did it in the spur of a moment. Just a word, and he was dead. Rookwood didn’t even have the time to react. I turned him into dust and let it be scattered. He did not deserve to rest in peace.’  
Hermione’s voice and expression were dark. That day was tragic. She had never felt so much hatred to anyone, not even Bellatrix. That foul woman had hurt her, she lived, she was stronger than her. Rookwood killed _her brother_. Her _family_. Nobody touched Hermione’s family and walked away unscathed. _Nobody_.  
She let herself be engulfed in Legolas’ embrace and calm down. He held her close with one arm and stroked her hair with the other. Hermione’s eyes were closed, and she listened to the river and Legolas’ heartbeat.  
She needed to calm down, to pull herself together again. Her emotions that rarely ever slipped through needed to be reigned in again. She let herself be vulnerable, but it was time to make peace with everything.  
The war happened. It hurt, yes, but it also brought joy. It was in the past; the present offered so much good. It was no good crying over a spilt potion.  
‘Thank you. For listening, and for staying with me,’ Hermione said silently and smiled when she felt Legolas kiss her hair.  
‘There is nothing for which you should be thanking me, Hermione. I am glad you trusted me with your story. My heart aches to see you in so much pain, but you are strong, and you will heal with time. And I will be there with you whenever you need me.’ His voice soothed Hermione’s worries, and she nodded her head.  
They sat there in silence for a while longer, just enjoying each other’s company, but decided to head back when the sun started to set. They walked back, hand in hand, to the House of Lord Elrond, talking about everything and nothing at all.  
They reached the courtyard and were met by Estel, the man Hermione had not met officially, yet, even though she knew he was Legolas’ friend, almost a brother, and the man Arwen loved.  
‘There you two are.’ He smirked. ‘We thought we would have to send out a search party. Nobody has seen you for hours.’  
‘We had many things to discuss,’ Legolas answered him. ‘And besides, I do not think you would need a search party to find _me_.’  
Estel shrugged with a grin and turned to Hermione.  
‘We have not been introduced formally, Lady Hermione.’  
‘We haven’t, but you already know my name, it seems.’ She smiled. ‘But I insist on omitting the title.’  
‘Very well, Hermione. I am Aragorn, although inside these walls I am known as Estel.’ He bowed his head.  
‘So, which one should I call you? And do you have any title I should address you with? And why the two names?’ Hermione tilted her head curiously.  
She felt Legolas smile into her hair while Estel, or Aragorn, kept the amusement at bay.  
‘I was raised in Rivendell,’ he answered, ‘that is why I have an elvish name – Estel. You may call me whichever one you prefer, and as for the title, I can only ask that you omit it, if you wish for me to do the same.’  
Hermione smiled at him and nodded her head.  
‘Alright. I’ll give it a consideration,’ she told him before her attention was drawn to Arwen and a pair of identical twins, who shared a great resemblance with Lord Elrond.  
The three of them approached, and Arwen smiled at Hermione.  
‘Hermione! I was looking for you.’  
‘Why?’ Hermione tilted her head again.  
‘I wanted to continue our conversation from the morning. You seem to have a talent to disappear at your wish.’ Arwen narrowed her eyes.  
‘I do, but I haven’t used it yet.’ Hermione laughed. ‘I am keeping it to myself until later convenience when I actually need to hide from you,’ she teased. ‘A handy thing, magic.’  
‘Do my ears deceive me?’ One of the twins asked suddenly. ‘The lady has magic?’  
‘It is most pleasant to meet you, My Lady.’ The other kissed her hand before she could react. ‘Elrohir, at your service.’  
Hermione pulled her hand away softly and let it fall by her side while clearing her throat awkwardly.  
‘A pleasure to meet you.’ She nodded. ‘I am Hermione.’  
‘Of course, you are.’ He grinned at her and then flicked his eyes at Legolas, whose eyes said he was not impressed that Elrohir was making her feel uncomfortable. ‘Our Princeling’s saviour.’  
‘Enough jesting, brother.' The other twin said and sent Hermione a soft smile. ‘Elladan, My Lady. Do forgive my brother, he means no offense. Although, rumours do travel quickly around here. Nobody is safe.’  
‘And just who is spreading them?’ Aragorn – that’s what Hermione decided to call him – threw a friendly jab.  
‘How could you ever doubt our innocence, oh brother mine?’ Elladan said with an innocent smile, but his eyes were nothing if not mirth.  
‘Is it you, Estel? After all, the one guilty of a crime is always keen to throw the accusations,’ Elrohir teased, too.  
The two of them reminded Hermione of Fred and George at that moment. Or, George as he was before Fred’s passing. It both hurt and made her happy to see such joy of life in the eyes of the twins, even if it felt weird to be flirted with. Though, hadn’t all the Weasley siblings tried that with her at one point?  
‘Are you alright?’ Legolas asked her silently, and Hermione was woken up from her thoughts.  
‘I am, yes. They just remind me of Fred and George.’ She smiled sadly at him, and Legolas nodded in understanding.  
Arwen then pulled on Hermione’s arm.  
‘Come with me? I am sure hours of Legolas’ company have been more than enough. I have something to show you,’ she said. ‘Will you live, Legolas, without her? Or shall I ask Glorfindel to keep you company while you two are parted?’  
Hermione laughed at Arwen’s teasing while Legolas glared playfully. Arwen grinned at him innocently and stepped away from her friend.  
Hermione turned to face Legolas and kissed his cheek.  
‘I will see you later.’ She smiled and stepped away from him before letting go of his hand.  
‘Until then, Hermione.’ He smiled slightly at her.  
She waved at the other three men, who were still bantering, and walked away with Arwen.


	6. Clarification

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. Any references to books, movies, or TV shows belong to their respectful owners, I do not own any of them. Any similarities to other works are not intentional.

In a few weeks’ time Thranduil left to go back to the Woodland Realm, but not before giving Hermione a new name.  
‘You shall be called Cevien, daughter of Earth, for that is your true descent, and no Man can claim you or have given you the gifts you bear as a magic weaver.’  
Hermione was quite satisfied with the name. It felt right to her, especially because the meaning of her given name was close to that of her new one.  
However, both Legolas and Hermione stayed in Rivendell, as Hermione still needed to learn a lot about the Elvish culture, the history of these lands, and about Middle-Earth itself, and everyone around her claimed, the Valley of Imladris was the best place to do it.  
Of course, Hermione being herself absorbed the information like a sponge. She felt the same excitement learning all these things as she had back when she was eleven and found out she was a witch. The new culture fascinated her, she loved learning about different races and lands, about the history, no matter how complicated everything sometimes was.  
A lot of this excitement was because of the possibility to learn the new languages. Hermione had found out that elves did not have one language, but Sindarin was most widely used, and people of the Woodland Realm spoke it. Native to Rivendell was Quenya, but Hermione omitted it for the time being. She decided to take her own advice and not overdo it. She would learn it in time, after mastering Sindarin. However, the elven-tongue was used by the elves, very few people outside their realms spoke it, so Hermione took up Westron, common-tongue, as well. While she originally asked for Legolas’ help, Arwen, Aragorn, Glorfindel volunteered to help as well. They taught her collectively, and Hermione found herself getting better and better at both languages. Her only problem was that she had to constantly cast and un-cast the translation spell, because she could not hear any of them speak neither Sindarin, nor common language when it was up.  
What Hermione did not expect to learn was fighting. Everybody insisted she had to learn to wield a weapon. Since Hermione had no training with weapons at all, she had to start from scratch. However, she noticed that wielding a sword came to her quite easily, as she was used to waving her wand. That is not to say it was the same. Not at all. The first few weeks left her aching everywhere. But the control she had of a blade was similar to that of a wand.  
It certainly did not go that well with a bow. Not at first, at least. Glorfindel and Legolas argued, even if playfully, which one was the better archer. In the end, Glorfindel won (by outrunning Legolas on a horse, as if that contributed to distinguishing the better archer), and he got to teach Hermione.  
She was not good at it. Glorfindel, and Hermione, tried not to let their frustrations show, but gave up. She could not, for the life of her, release the arrow well enough for it to hit the target, and if it did, by some miracle, it was always in some random place.  
Thus, while Hermione looked forward to her other lessons, she dreaded archery every day. She felt like it was her flying lessons in first year all over again. She could not do it. And while she could explain, why flying did not go well, she could not figure out why archery was such a challenge for her.  
Glorfindel, to his credit, was very patient with Hermione. However, his constant fixing her arms, her legs, her stance, and her hair just drove Hermione mad. At the end of the day, Hermione would be stressed and irritated.  
On one particular day, after missing for umpteenth time, Hermione just sighed heavily and turned to Glorfindel.  
‘I give up,’ she stated simply, thrusted the bow into his hands and walked away.  
She felt she needed to calm down, focus on relaxing. Constant failures did nothing to boost her confidence. One would say, that she was not failing all that much, but Hermione, perfectionist that she was, felt like she was somehow disappointing everyone, including herself. She had come to expect the best results from herself, and so did everyone. If there was ever any problem, Hermione was the main source for solution. She had been for years, and it frustrated her, that she could not master something like archery.  
However, her self-thrown pity party was rudely interrupted by Legolas, who simply took her hand and led her back.  
‘Legolas, I can’t do it. Just, let it go.’  
‘Of course, you can,’ he stated calmly. ‘Glorfindel simply fails to teach you. So, it’s my turn. Jokes aside, I am better than him at archery, simply because of my descent.’  
‘Yes, you have had a lifetime of training. But after a month of training, I cannot even hit the target, not to mention the middle of it. Maybe I should have Glorfindel stand in front of it, that might make me hit my target.’  
Of course, she did not mean it and was very thankful to everyone for taking the time of their day to teach her. Glorfindel showed a huge amount of patience with her, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to show him she appreciated it and could learn, but she simply failed. She also felt bad about it because she knew, that he had more important things to do than to teach a silly girl, how to draw the bow and shoot an arrow.  
But Legolas just laughed at her words before kissing the side of her head and leading her back to the training court.  
It was already empty. People, who were generally there, had gone to have lunch, as it was almost noon, and whoever was not training simply did not see the point in standing around the empty place.  
Legolas handed Hermione the bow, and she sighed.  
‘Legolas.’  
‘Hermione.’  
‘You know I won’t be able to do it.’ Hermione gave him an annoyed look.  
‘You certainly will not if you keep having this attitude,’ he responded. ‘Now, take the bow and take your stance.’  
Hermione looked at him for a moment longer, and then decided to let him win this time. She took the bow, nocked an arrow, and took her stance. She looked expectantly at Legolas, who had a calculating look.  
‘You are not right-handed,’ he stated simply. ‘But you write with your right and wield your wand and sword with it. Why?’  
Hermione lowered the bow and looked at him in surprise. Nobody knew she was left handed. She had learnt doing everything with her right simply because she was told to back when she was in primary school. Technically, since she was able to work with both of her hands, she was ambidextrous, but biologically, her left hand was dominant still.  
‘It was easier to fit in when I was little,’ Hermione answered finally. ‘I simply got used to it and then, when we went to buy my wand, I told Mr Ollivander the truth – I do write with my right hand.’  
Legolas walked over to a weapon stand and found another bow before handing it to Hermione. She looked over it and saw, that its arrow rest was on the right side of the bow rather than left. She nocked an arrow and tried out the bow.  
‘Does it feel more comfortable?’  
Hermione felt odd. Using her left arm for holding the arrow instead of a bow felt odd, but at the same time, it felt more comfortable. She felt more in control. So, she nodded in answer to Legolas’ question.  
He nodded and stepped closer to her.  
‘You are still too tense,’ he stated and brushed his hand on her left shoulder and upper arm. ‘Relax, Hermione,’ he pressed her elbow down a bit, then grabbed her waist and softly turned her tiniest bit to the left. ‘Perpendicular to your target. And your legs. Do not let your weight press on your left. Distribute it evenly, as if you were standing straight. Do not bend it at the knee,’ Legolas pressed on her thigh to straighten her leg, and Hermione’s breath hitched for a moment.  
Legolas’ lips twitched slightly at the sound, but Hermione ignored it.  
‘Alright. Now, remember, what Glorfindel told you. You exhale and release the arrow,’ Hermione nodded. ‘Draw the string to your mouth, aim, and release.’  
Hermione exhaled and let the arrow go. It flew and hit the target. She laughed breathlessly.  
‘Very good,’ Legolas smiled at her, ‘now, do it again. This time, without me telling you what to do.’  
Hermione nocked another arrow, took her stance, aimed and released. The arrow hit the target again. She tried again, and again, and again… Until she was out of arrows. She missed once, when a bird shot out of a tree nearby startling her, but every other time, she hit the target.  
Hermione turned on her heel and jumped on Legolas hugging him tightly. He tensed in shock for a moment, but then wrapped his arms around her.  
‘Thank you, thank you, thank you,’ Hermione whispered.  
‘You are welcome,’ Legolas said before she pulled away. ‘Now, all you need to do is train. Your aim seems to be quite good, I think you simply need to get used to wielding the bow itself. How difficult is it to aim with your wand?’  
‘Well,’ Hermione furrowed her brow, ‘you don’t necessarily aim at a specific point, rather you point it at an object. Sometimes, all you need is a general direction,’ Hermione took out her wand and waved at the arrows.  
They unsheathed themselves out of the target and flew towards her. Hermione then waved again for them to slow down and levitated them back to their quiver.  
‘See? General direction,’ she said before looking up at Legolas to see him smiling.  
‘I realised I have not seen you use magic, other than your translation spell,’ he told her. ‘What can you do?’  
Hermione laughed.  
‘It’s easier to name what I _can’t_ do, actually,’ she said. ‘Or, rather, what magic can’t do. I can’t conjure up any food or transfigure it from anything, but I can summon it if I know where it is, or multiply it, if I have some already. Magic cannot create love. It can mimic it for limited periods of time, but it takes a form of obsession rather than actual love… There is no spell that can resurrect the dead -’ Hermione cringed, ‘- but there are some dark ones that can make the undead. Magic can fix a lot of things, but if a wound is inflicted by dark magic, it most likely will be irreversible. George lost his ear after it got hit with a curse. It cannot be grown back. An Auror I knew had an eye, a leg, and a piece of his nose missing, as well as several scars. You also can’t fix sight, apparently. Nor can you fix somebody’s mind,’ Hermione said sadly. ‘In general, there are only so many times you can fix the same object. After some time, the spell stops working. So, for example, if I were to break an arrow, I could fix it, and it would be good as new. But if I kept breaking it at the same spot and fixing it repeatedly, after some time it would be irreparable. Let’s see, what else? Oh! You can’t obtain knowledge by any spell, that’s why I need to learn Sindarin and Westron myself. Also, you cannot acquire material possessions by magic. You have to buy them or make them. Although, to be fair, these might be restrictions put on by the Ministry of Magic, because if there were none, the economy would not exist in any shape or form. Anything other than that… Technically speaking, I could probably do.’ Hermione answered in detail, as was usual to her, but she found Legolas tended to actually be interested in what she had to say.  
‘Can you fly?’ Legolas asked curiously which made Hermione smile genuinely.  
‘Not per se.’ She shrugged. ‘But we do have brooms that are made of specific wood. Harry is a very good flyer. I prefer to keep my feet on the ground and only fly if absolutely necessary. Voldemort could fly without a broom. Everybody thought it proved his great power, but -’ Hermione smirked, ‘- I was curious. He used a flying material. It has spells weaved in it during the making process. He made a cloak out of it which made him look majestic. A bloody diva,’ Hermione rolled her eyes. ‘And there are, of course, magical creatures. A hippogriff can fly, but they don’t allow everyone on. And there are thestrals, but these are… You can only see a thestral if you’ve seen someone die.’  
Hermione suddenly remembered the first of September. Most of the students usually thought the carriages were pulled by magic. However, that year was heart-breaking. So many people’s eyes watered or became distant. Hermione saw how the little children were being comforted by the older students. The thestrals, too, were confused by the attention they were receiving. They stomped their feet and whipped their wings, until Hermione and Blaise took care of the situation and told everyone to get in the carriages.  
Hermione was pulled out of her thoughts when Legolas pulled her back into a hug. She let herself relax and forget about the sadness that still haunted her most of the time. Though, she had noticed she was feeling a lot happier here, in Rivendell, than she had in Hogwarts for a long time. The place was truly an oasis of peace and tranquillity.  
They were forced to pull away, however, when it suddenly started to rain. Hermione grimaced at the water.  
‘Why are you making that face?’ Legolas asked with amusement.  
‘My hair doesn’t agree with rain.’ She sighed heavily.  
‘I am certain you look as beautiful as you always do.’  
Hermione looked at him with disbelief.  
‘I’m afraid you have been mistaking your own reflection in the mirror with mine. Have you ever seen a wet cat? That’s how I look,’ she stated, seriously.  
Legolas laughed shaking his head, and Hermione smiled widely. She had noticed he didn’t laugh much, even his smile was rather rare, so she liked seeing it, as much as she could. So, if she could humour him with making comparisons, then so be it, she decided.  
‘Why do you keep looking at me like that?’ Legolas whispered as they stood in the rain. He brushed a strand of her hair away from her face.  
‘Because you are gorgeous when you smile,’ Hermione stated and was rewarded with a soft smile.  
Hermione’s fingers slowly brushed against his cheek as she wiped away some raindrops. Her fingertips continued their way to his jaw, then his chin, and finally she brushed her thumb against his lower lip. Hermione pulled away her hand and wrapped her arms around his neck. She leaned on him to give herself some height and pushed her face close to his, just inches apart. Her eyes found Legolas’. He looked at hers for a split second before closing the little distance between them.  
It was short and sweet, and they pulled away before connecting their lips again, this time a lot more vigorously.  
Their kiss was passionate and bruising, they barely stopped to breathe properly before continuing the exploration of each other. Hermione’s fingers went to his hair pulling at it. His arm held her close, while the other found its place on her hip and was drawing circles.  
They fought for dominance, neither winning until Legolas caught her bottom lip between his teeth which earned him a growl from Hermione. She felt him smirk against her mouth and tugged at his hair in revenge. The moan it elicited from him made Hermione _burn_. She pushed herself even closer to Legolas. She felt him move her backwards but ignored it because all of the sensations she was feeling were unknown to her yet felt so familiar and so _right_. Inside her, she felt their bond vibrating with satisfaction.  
She barely registered as her back hit something but did not hesitate to wrap her legs around Legolas’ torso, when he lifted her up. This new angle gave her even more freedom and she kissed him with new heat.  
Finally, when they started struggling to breathe, they pulled away breathing heavily, their foreheads pressed together. Hermione’s eyes were still closed, her fingers still in Legolas’ hair, and her body still pressed close to his. When her eyes opened, she found herself looking into his blue ones, but instead of that familiar light blue, they were as dark as the ocean, when you were stuck in the middle of it with nothing but water in sight. He was still slightly out of breath.  
Legolas cupped her cheek brushing his thumb against her lips, and Hermione caught it with her teeth without much thinking.  
‘You are so beautiful,’ he whispered to her, and Hermione’s already flush cheeks became even darker. ‘Absolutely stunning, even with your wet cat hair.’ His voice took to a teasing tone making Hermione laugh.

While most of the elves in Rivendell knew about Legolas and Hermione’s bond, it became apparent after that particular afternoon, that the bond was making itself visible. And Hermione herself felt it, too.  
She remembered skimming through the section about soul bonds. She didn’t look deeper into them, simply because she did not need to. Voldemort was not bound to anyone, not mention another soul. He did not have a whole soul to do it, firstly. Secondly, he did not know love. Thus, the section was left abandoned, and Hermione never really read the book again. However, she did remember some things. Namely, that there were stages of bonding. Bonds had to be triggered before they could be established and sealed. In her own case, she knew that she had triggered that bond by meeting Legolas and helping him. Until they kissed, it was unestablished. They felt attraction and a strong need to protect the other, but after that, the bond started to manifest itself quite strongly. However, kissing did not seal the bond. It was never that easy.  
Some bonds needed rituals to be sealed. Familial one did not, but that was because it was a natural bond between family members or sworn siblings. The Marital bond was sealed during a wedding. The vows sealed it and kept it. Hermione knew about the bond the house-elves had, too, and it was the bond of servitude. There was, of course, the ritual, bounding soul to an object; it was how the Horcruxes were made. Soul bond, however, was unknown to Hermione. She did not know, what kind of ritual was required to seal it, or if there even was one. And here, in Rivendell, she did not have any books that she could read, not yet.  
Her solution was to go to Lord Elrond. Hermione knew it would potentially turn into a rather uncomfortable conversation, but she needed information. So, she sought him out and asked to talk to him.  
‘How may I be of service, Cevien?’ he asked when the finally took their seats in the library and Hermione cast some spells for privacy.  
‘I wanted to ask about my bond,’ Hermione said. ‘I don’t remember everything I have read, and to be completely honest, I did not read it as thoroughly as I should have. My Sindarin is not yet good enough to understand complicated texts in books in your library, so therefore I came to seek for help in understanding.’  
‘I will help you in any way I can. Is there anything specific you would like to know?’ Lord Elrond asked.  
‘Well, what I remember specifically about bonds in general, is that they need to be triggered, established, and then sealed. The part that interests me is sealing,’ Hermione said.  
‘You believe your bond has already been established?’ Lord Elrond asked.  
‘Has it not?’ Hermione tilted her head in curiosity.  
‘I do not know that, Cevien.’ Lord Elrond smiled at her. ‘However, to my knowledge, sealing a bond like yours is very much associated with feelings.’  
‘In what way?’  
‘For the children of Men, to seal a Marital bond, a man and a woman must make vows in a specific ceremony, or ritual, if you wish to call it. It is further completed by consummation, which is, unfortunately, not always consensual. And so, while men do not have magic, the Marital Bond still exists in them to an extent, and when the marriage is consummated, it is not only the tradition that stops the separation.’ Hermione’s eyebrows rose slightly; she had not known that. ‘We marry differently. We marry out of love. And what Men oftentimes consider a shame, we call marriage. Elves marry by making love. That is why Elves cannot marry for convenience. Do you understand?’ Lord Elrond’s explanation actually made a lot of sense to Hermione, so she nodded, though her cheeks heated up lightly. ‘Your bond, while based on love, as marriage should be, is not the same. Other than your souls being bound together, that is. A soul bond does not require any particular ritual to be sealed. Nor does it require vows. Once the bond is triggered and established, the next step is consummation.’  
‘So, essentially, Legolas and I will be married,’ Hermione concluded.  
‘In a way.’ Lord Elrond nodded. ‘A soul bond goes beyond marriage. It is the very definition of love, Cevien. It is the purest of magics. That is why it rarely manifests itself in Men.’  
Hermione nodded deep in thought. She was essentially married. She then realised that King Thranduil knew that from the first moment he heard about her. That is why he called her a princess.  
‘What should I expect from this?’ Hermione asked.  
‘Protectiveness.’ Lord Elrond smiled. ‘It has already begun, Cevien. Your decision to save Legolas, his unwillingness to leave you in your most vulnerable state; they are manifestations of your bond. I should also expect increase in your power. You are already an incredibly strong magic wielder, but your core, while joined with Legolas’, is still one. Once you seal the bond, it will become much stronger. Elven magic is also rather different to your own, so your powers may change slightly. We are one with nature, Cevien, while your magic, even if it comes from Earth, is not from nature. That will change.’  
‘Will my soul change?’ Hermione asked.  
‘No, it will be the same, just more whole. Fulfilment is what you will feel. Contentment and happiness, even though you might feel them already.’  
‘My Patronus has changed,’ Hermione stated and then explained: ‘It is a magical manifestation of my soul. It takes form of an animal, that represents character, inner being. Mine was an otter, for the last four years. It has changed into a wolf,’ she stated simply. ‘And so has my Animagus form. I used to be able to turn into an otter. Now, I am a wolf. A white wolf, no less.’  
Lord Elrond leaned back against his chair.  
‘Alas, I have no answer to this, Cevien,’ he said regretfully. ‘But I did not know that about you. And I had not Seen it.’  
Hermione had momentarily been lost before remembering Lord Elrond had the gift of Sight.  
Contrary to popular opinion, Hermione did not despise or disrespect Divination. What she did hate were frauds. And Professor Trelawney had been just that. Apart from two prophecies, she had not ever Seen anything and could not even make a correct prediction for the afternoon’s weather.  
So, when she found out Lord Elrond had a gift of Sight, she took it as a fact and did not doubt it. What she did realise after a few conversations, was that everything could be changed. He saw what will happen, if everything continues the way it does at the moment, but was something to change, the prediction would hold true no more.  
‘What do you know about me?’ Hermione asked.  
‘I do not need Sight to know about your past of pain and loss, Cevien,’ the elf said sadly. ‘You have grieved. You have a heavy burden in your heart. You are carrying guilt that is not yours to carry, my child. I know a warrior when I see one, too. You are young, and yet, you have fought a war.’ His voice held sorrow. ‘But there was happiness, too. For that I am grateful.’  
Hermione smiled and nodded, but then guilt settled in her heart. She had forgotten where she came from. She had been spending her days in Rivendell, happily and without a care, and she had forgotten about her family, about her school and about her life.  
‘Lord Elrond, will I ever be able to go back? At least for a day?’ Hermione’s voice was heavy all of a sudden.  
‘Do not let the sorrow fill your heart, my child.’ Lord Elrond lifted her chin up gently. ‘You will find your way back. I cannot open the door for you, but Mithrandir can. Until then, be happy and enjoy your carefree life, for I fear it will not always be that way.’  
Hermione nodded. She did not know how to respond to his last words. But at the same time, she was not surprised. It seemed that even without Harry she was prone to adventures and danger.  
‘Thank you, Lord Elrond,’ Hermione said before standing up.  
‘If you need any counsel, Cevien, do not hesitate to ask.’

Hermione decided to tell Legolas, what she found out about their bond that same day. She found him on the training grounds fighting Glorfindel. They were both moving a lot faster than she could watch comfortably, she noticed, and with knives, too. However, she knew they were both too quick to be seriously injured by the other, so she stood by a column and just watched.  
‘Enjoying the view?’ Arwen asked Hermione from behind, but Hermione had heard her coming, and smelt her.  
She had noticed, that ever since she had first turned to her new Animagus form about a week ago, her senses were sharper. She could smell different things better, see better in the dark, and hear and distinguish different people’s footsteps.  
‘I find it quite too fast to watch without getting a headache.’ Hermione smiled at Arwen. ‘My eyes are not quick enough to adjust.’  
Arwen glanced at the two elves who were now just playfully wrestling with each other, their knives back in their sheaths.  
‘They are quite quick, those two.’ The elven woman smiled playfully. ‘But I am sure you can keep up with Legolas.’  
‘I try,’ Hermione said carefully and narrowed her eyes at Arwen. ‘What is it that you mean?’  
‘Nothing!’ Arwen grinned innocently. ‘These are only my modest observations. You two have become closer, if that is possible.’  
‘Right…’ Hermione raised her eyebrows at Arwen. ‘Where are you going with this?’  
But Arwen just smiled and waved at Legolas and Glorfindel who somehow ended up on the ground.  
‘Boys, typical,’ Hermione muttered affectionately. 

Legolas was not exactly surprised when Hermione told him what Lord Elrond had said to her. He definitely had not known, but his face said that he had considered the possibility of them being, well, married.  
‘I started suspecting it when my father gave you your title and a new name,’ he explained to her as they sat by the river in the forest.  
‘And the sealing of the bond bit?’  
‘It is the most intimate form of love, Hermione,’ Legolas said smiling slightly, ‘what did you expect?’  
‘Something along the lines of a ritual,’ Hermione admitted.  
Legolas considered it and nodded in understanding.  
‘There are some other things, too,’ Hermione said. ‘Remember, I told you about the Patronus Charm?’  
‘It produces a guardian that takes form of an animal that represents your soul, is it not?’ She nodded. ‘What about it?’ Legolas asked her.  
‘Well, as you said, it represents my soul. Sometimes, very rarely, it changes form. It has something to do with emotional life, I guess you should call it.’  
‘Yours changed.’  
It was a statement to which Hermione nodded.  
‘Yes. It used to be an otter, and so my Animagus form was an otter, too. Imagine my surprise, when, instead of a little water mammal, I turned into a wolf.’ Hermione grimaced.  
Legolas raised his eyebrows in surprise, and then Hermione realised she had not mentioned her ability to become an animal previously. So, she stood up and morphed into a wolf with her own eyes, still dark amber. Hermione sat on her hind legs and stared at Legolas who was looking at her with awe.  
‘You are so beautiful,’ he whispered and reached his hand out to go through her fur. Hermione closed her eyes at the feeling. ‘As white as fresh snow in the still forest. But you still have your eyes, the colour of honey of the wild bees. You are stunning.’  
As much as Hermione disliked people touching her head, she could not get enough of it, when it was Legolas.  
It all started during one of her archery lessons. It was windy, and her hair kept getting everywhere: her face, her arrows, even her bow. And if a hair got tangled into a string… Well, suffice it to say, Hermione detested it a lot. After Legolas got his fair share of amusement, he asked, if she would allow him to braid her hair. Hermione was sceptical at first; it was rare, that people would be able to touch her hair without hurting her, let alone tame it. But after a moment of deliberation, she agreed to give him a chance. Hermione waited for the too harsh of a tug or general tangling around fingers, but neither came, and she found herself enjoying the sensation of Legolas braiding her hair. She was glad her hair was long, at that moment, for it took longer to braid.  
And also because she had tried short hair. It was even worse than long. Hermione Granger with a bob-cut was a one-time thing, that only one person saw, and he laughed for about an hour. And then kept snorting for three more days whenever he saw her, even though Hermione made sure her hair grew back to its previous length immediately after seeing the consequence of the cut.  
Hermione’s eyes opened when Legolas pulled his hand away from her. She turned back into her former self.  
‘It is uncommon to see a wolf, that is white,’ Legolas told her. ‘They only live in the north. I have never seen one.’  
‘So much for blending in and being inconspicuous.’ Hermione sighed. ‘Are there _any_ wolves in Mirkwood?’  
‘There are some, but we usually keep our distance from them, and they from us.’ Legolas tilted his head slightly. ‘Will you show me your Patronus?’  
Hermione smiled and nodded. She pulled out her wand and found a memory to use for the conjuring. She focused on safety she felt, when she was with Legolas, on the giddiness and happiness, that would overcome her, when they were playfully chasing each other in the gardens of Rivendell, and on the feeling of comfort.  
‘ _Expecto Patronum!_ ’  
A wolf, looking not unlike Hermione just a minute ago, emerged from the tip of her wand and nuzzled her nose into Hermione’s hand before doing the same to Legolas. Hermione watched his face, filled with wonder, concentrate on the silvery wolf before him. The Patronus then circled him before disappearing.  
‘How do you do it? How do you conjure your Patronus?’  
Legolas’ question surprised Hermione, but she answered, still.  
‘The most important thing to do is find a happy thought. A memory, perhaps, or something pleasant enough. It needs to be a powerful thought, because Patronus is… It is a physical form of happiness. That’s why it can fight the Dementors. Once you have a happy thought, you call the incantation and… Voila!’  
Legolas smiled at Hermione. It was a very genuine smile, although Hermione could not help spotting the glint of amusement in his eyes. Never-the-less, she smiled back, if a bit shyly. Legolas pulled her close and kissed her lips softly but deeply.  
‘I am very pleased to know, that your most powerful thoughts include me.’  
Hermione stared at him for a long second before straddling him.  
‘Why don’t you help me create more of those, then?’  
Legolas simply pulled her into another kiss for an answer.


End file.
